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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26628988">An Ode to Humanity: I - Strophe</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/theorchardofbones/pseuds/theorchardofbones'>theorchardofbones</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Demon Noct, High School AU, Ignis/Aranea (mentioned), M/M, Mortal Prompto, Non-Explicit Sex, Prince of the Underworld AU, Trans Prompto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:20:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>44,293</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26628988</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/theorchardofbones/pseuds/theorchardofbones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They say that high school is the best time of your life — but sometimes, it might just be Hell!</p><p>Sent to Eos to live and learn among the mortals, Noctis can think of no worse torment than being made to navigate the perils of adolescence and puberty. As far as he’s concerned, he can’t wait to put it all behind him and return to his rightful place in Hell, as heir to the throne.</p><p>When cheerful, lionhearted Prompto enters the picture, everything changes. With an ally — and a friend — to help him through the trials and tribulations of high school, Noctis learns that it isn’t all bad on Eos.</p><p>Can he find compassion for the mortals he’ll someday rule over in Hell, or will his worse nature win out in the end? And what happens when a demon — the Prince of the Underworld, to boot — risks everything to fall in love with a mortal?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>91</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Promptis Big Bang 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for Promptis Big Bang 2020!</p><p>Artwork is by the spectacularly talented <a href="https://twitter.com/N00ling?s=09">Nools</a>, who was a <i>dream</i> to be paired up with, and who did such a wonderful job bringing my favourite scene to life. Their art can be found in chapter 4!</p><p>Please, please go shower them with praise, their art inspired me so much to try make this story shine!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>It felt like being seen — truly seen — for the first time. Prompto’s eyes lit up with curiosity; his freckled hand reached out, tentative.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘It’s okay,’ Noct found himself saying. ‘Go on.’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But Prompto was hesitant, and Noct could see in the pink flare of heat across his cheeks that he felt as if this were something forbidden — and maybe it was, in a way, a demon showing its true form to a mortal. If there were such a thing as taboo in the realms of the Underworld, maybe this would be the worst one of all.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Prompto chewed his lip. When he finally released it to speak, his teeth left imprints in the soft pink flesh.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘Are you sure?’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Noct knew then, in that moment, better than perhaps he’d known anything in all of his miserable existence — knew that even if his father himself were to beam his way up from the depths of Hell to smite them for their sins… it would be worth it.</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>𝕾𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌, 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕱𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖄𝖊𝖆𝖗</p><p>Noct snarled and kicked at a can lying on the ground, sending it hurtling across the alley. It hit a wall with a tiny, barely audible <em> clink. </em> Not exactly the result he’d been hoping for.</p><p>Who did his old man think he was, anyways?</p><p>Okay, so he was the King of the Underworld — and sure, that had some sway with the denizens of Hell — but he didn’t <em> know </em> what it was like here. He might have some noble ideas about humanity, but he’d never had to live with them.</p><p>As if it wasn’t unfair enough that the old man forced Noct to go to school in the Upper World like some common mortal, his dad actually expected him to try to <em> befriend </em> them. Said it’d teach him humility and compassion. Said it’d help for when the throne passed to him, someday.</p><p>Noct’s verdict so far? Let them all <em> burn. </em></p><p>He looked over at the can where it had landed in the dirt, barely dented by its impact against the wall. It was some discount brand — a knockoff version of the bigger names you’d see on billboards on Main Street. Probably tasted like sugar and not a whole lot else. Useless and nasty, just like the people Noct had been sent to live amongst.</p><p><em> Learn from them, </em> the old man had said. <em> Befriend them. It may just help you see things from their perspective. </em></p><p>He narrowed his gaze where he had it trained on the can. Focused on the bright yellow lettering, as if it embodied everything he hated. All it took was the slightest bit of concentration — one moment the can was there, the next it was gone in an explosion of shrapnel.</p><p>Satisfied, he turned his glare away from the spot the can had once occupied— </p><p>And found himself looking at a mortal child.</p><p>It was rounder than most of the mortals Noct had seen; its chubby cheeks were flushed pink as it looked at him with interest. The glasses perched on its nose concealed its eyes somewhat, but Noct could see behind the gleam that they were wide with surprise.</p><p>Shit. This was <em> exactly </em> what he wasn’t supposed to let happen. The child had caught him doing something mortals very well <em> should not </em> be able to do, and now he’d have to kill it.</p><p>Oh well.</p><p>He raised his hand, ready to snap his fingers — it’d be quick and merciful, really, or so he’d been told — but instead of quaking in fear of its imminent demise, the child clapped its hands together in glee.</p><p>‘That was <em> so cool!’ </em></p><p>Noct hesitated. He knew he should get rid of the mortal before it could run and tell anybody what it had seen, but it was the first time somebody had called his powers <em> cool. </em>He might be the prince of the Underworld, but he was still little more than a fledgling demon until his full powers came in. To a mortal, he realised, his powers would seem a lot greater than they were.</p><p>He gave a nonchalant shrug. He’d have to get rid of the child eventually, but who was to say he couldn’t have a little fun first?</p><p>‘It’s no big deal,’ he said. ‘Nothing compared to what my dad can do. Wanna see it again?’</p><p>The mortal nodded eagerly, almost knocking the lenses off its face in its haste.</p><p>Noct chewed his lip thoughtfully. Making errant soda cans explode was child’s play, really — he’d have to do something a little flashier. He looked around the alleyway, in search of a bigger target. There were some bags of trash nearby, which could make for a pretty cool mess. Probably stink when they exploded, though.</p><p>A little farther up the alleyway, there was a chain link fence. Depending on how securely it was bolted into the wall, it should be easy enough to just tear the whole thing off.</p><p>He narrowed his eyes again in concentration, imagining the fence peeling off from the wall like petals from a wilted flower. At first, it creaked and groaned as the metal strained against its fastenings; as he exerted his will on it, it began to shake with an incredible force as it struggled to break free.</p><p>With a <em> ping, </em> one of the bolts broke from the wall; a moment later, a second one followed. Now he just had to lift and pull, and he could yank the whole thing right off.</p><p>
  <em> ‘Your Highness.’ </em>
</p><p>He froze. He knew that voice too well.</p><p>Wincing, he released his hold on the fence and slowly turned around. Ignis was there at the end of the alleyway with Gladio at his side. The mortal child was still there, too, but Gladio must have knocked him out; he held the child in his arms, where it lay with its eyes closed in peaceful oblivion.</p><p>‘What are you <em> thinking, </em> Noct?’</p><p>Ignis stormed over, his shiny shoes clicking across the concrete as he went. When he got to Noct he grabbed his arm, yanking on it, and pulled him bodily to where Gladio stood waiting.</p><p>‘You know better than to use your abilities in front of mortals,’ Ignis snapped. He looked about as furious as Noct had ever seen him.</p><p>Noct shrugged.</p><p>‘I was going to kill it when I was done. I just wanted to have some fun first.’</p><p>‘Kill it?!’</p><p>Ignis’s voice went high and shrill. It was difficult not to laugh, but Noct knew better. Even to let the slightest smirk show on his lips could land him in a world of trouble.</p><p>‘You can’t just go around <em> killing </em> them,’ Ignis said. ‘There are— there are <em> rules </em> for this sort of thing. No, a quick memory wipe will suffice. With any luck, no one else will have witnessed your foolishness.’</p><p>Noct glowered down at the ground. He didn’t see what the problem was; where one mortal died, there were always ten more to replace it. It wasn’t like anyone would <em> miss </em> it.</p><p>‘Whatever,’ he muttered. ‘Guess you’re gonna have to bring me back to my dad and tell him what I did, huh? He’ll probably decide it’s not such a good idea for me to live with the mortals after all…’</p><p>When he dared to sneak a look up at Ignis, his advisor was glaring down his nose at him.</p><p>‘Far from it.’</p><p>Ignis grabbed him once more by the arm, and he was far from gentle as he steered Noct out onto the street where the car was waiting for them.</p><p>‘Gladio. I trust you can see the child safely home after the memory’s taken care of.’</p><p>‘Sure thing, Ignis.’</p><p>Noct tried to yank his arm free. Ignis didn’t let go until he was securely in the back seat of the car.</p><p>Ignis was silent for the duration of the ride. Noct held onto the hope that he’d summon up a portal back to Insomnia — but all too soon he was turning towards the apartment.</p><p>
  <em> Great. </em>
</p><p>He tried to beat a hasty retreat in the underground parking lot, but Ignis got ahead of him somehow. His tall, lanky form blocked the opening to the elevator where he stood with his arms folded sternly across his chest.</p><p>‘I’ll do you a favour and keep this incident from the king,’ he said briskly, ‘but don’t imagine for a moment that I’ll simply forget. Need I remind you that your father sent you to the Upper World specifically to show you that mortals are—’</p><p>Noct rolled his eyes.</p><p><em> ‘More than mere sacks of flesh. </em> I know, Ignis. My old man gave me the whole routine already.’</p><p>He took a little sadistic pleasure in the way Ignis’s lips flattened into a line of displeasure. It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to piss off the demon charged with being his guardian for the duration of his time in the Upper World, but it was just so <em> fun </em> to wind him up.</p><p>And then suddenly, inexplicably, Ignis changed.</p><p>His green eyes burned a fiery red; already tall, he seemed to arch higher and higher over Noct until he blotted out the very light around them. Great wings of ebony sprouted from his back, with crimson flames licking the leathered edges. His gloved hands turned into glinting talons.</p><p>When he spoke, it wasn’t the mortal word that came from his lips — it was a language that would have turned any human in the vicinity to insanity had they been unlucky enough to hear it.</p><p><em> ‘Prince Noctis,’ </em> the demon said, and Noct couldn’t help but wince at the sound of his own name in that terrible voice. ‘The king charged me with guiding you in your time here — keeping you from wandering astray. He made it clear that I was not to suffer your unruly behaviour.’</p><p>In the shadow of the great guardian demon, Noct gulped.</p><p>Ignis leaned forward, arching down toward him. Noct could feel the heat of the demon’s gaze scalding his face.</p><p>‘Need I remind you that he instructed me to do as I see fit should you refuse to stay in line? Need I remind you of the extent of suffering I could inflict upon you in the mere blink of an eye?’</p><p>Trembling, Noct shook his head.</p><p>That seemed to satisfy the demon. All at once, the wings folded away and the fire in his eyes went out with a sizzle, as he peeled himself back into his person-suit once more. Diligently, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.</p><p>‘Excellent. I trust this shall be the last time I have to warn you, hm?’</p><p>With that, he turned and marched briskly toward the elevator. The doors popped open with a <em> ding </em> without him ever touching the button.</p>
<hr/><p>𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖚𝖒𝖓, 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕿𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖉 𝖄𝖊𝖆𝖗</p><p>Noct had seen the fires of the deepest pits of the Hellscape. He’d witnessed the extremities of the suffering a mortal could endure; he’d seen men hit their breaking point, only to be pushed far beyond.</p><p>None of it — not the abject agony on a man’s face as he was flayed alive, not the supreme misery of the woman whose eternal torment was to live out her days in a pit of venomous scorpions — could compare to the plight of Noctis Lucis Caelum.</p><p>The demons of the Underworld had devoted their eternal lives to devising the most brutal forms of torture, but <em> this </em> particular torment was the invention of the mortals themselves.</p><p>
  <em> High school. </em>
</p><p>It didn’t matter, he’d told himself — not the cliques, or the popularity contests, or the gossip. It didn’t matter that the boys who considered themselves his peers had already reached second base (or farther) with girls, or that Noct had no interest in such things; it didn’t even matter that his classmates had shot up in height over the summer, while he’d kept a decidedly modest stature.</p><p>These were all petty mortal concerns, hardly worthy of the Crown Prince of the Underworld, and yet…</p><p>And yet he’d spent a little longer than usual that morning making sure his hair sat just right, and dabbing cream onto the rash of pimples that had broken out along the jaw of his meat-suit. It wasn’t as if he <em> cared </em> about making a good impression on his first day of high school. Not officially, at least. But these sort of things <em> mattered </em> among the mortals.</p><p>Puberty had almost been too much: his voice cracking, hair sprouting in weird places, the <em> body odour. </em> Even though every single one of his classmates had gone through the same thing, he’d been convinced he was the only pitiful being in the history of the cosmos to have to suffer through <em> pit stains. </em> </p><p>At least his hormones were mostly under control now, even if the acne didn’t seem to be going anywhere…</p><p>Beside him, behind the wheel of the car, Ignis cleared his throat.</p><p>‘Are you certain you wouldn’t like me to drop you closer to the school? It’s rather warm for a walk.’</p><p><em> Rather warm </em> was a euphemism; the sticky heat of the summer was far from gone, and Noct was already all clammy under his arms, where his shirt clung to him. </p><p>He hurriedly shook his head.</p><p>‘Everyone else drives or gets the subway. Having a driver is <em> embarrassing.’ </em></p><p>He made a point of avoiding looking over at Ignis, but that didn’t stop him from catching the knowing smirk on the guardian demon’s lips.</p><p>‘And I thought you didn’t <em> care </em> about the opinions of mortals.’</p><p>Noct fought the urge to issue a retort. He knew when he was being baited; the flurry of hormones rushing into his body all at once had made him ever quicker to lose his temper, but he’d prided himself in being a little calmer these days, if only out of spite to Ignis.</p><p>Maybe it had something to do with that time he’d almost thrown a car across a busy city street when it had honked at him as he was crossing while the crosswalk light was still red. His father hadn’t exactly been… forgiving.</p><p>‘Shall I pick you up later?’ Ignis asked. ‘Don’t worry, I can wait here for you.’</p><p>Noct shrugged.</p><p>‘Whatever.’</p><p>They parted like this, with Ignis chiding him to remember to exercise patience, and Noct brushing it off as he did most of Ignis’s lectures. Unlike many of the mortals in his peer group, he didn’t have a mother to nag him about <em> being good </em> — he definitely didn’t need Ignis to fill that role.</p><p>He heaved his book bag onto his shoulder, grimacing at the weight of it. When he was sure Ignis was nowhere nearby, he’d toss some of his school books into the Armiger — the pocket realm demons used to transfer material objects between the Underworld and the Upper — but for now he had to suck it up, just like everybody else.</p><p>Just like everybody else. Hmph. If spending the most nebulous years of his mortal development in the Upper World had been meant to ground him, it definitely hadn’t gotten him used to the fact that here, he was <em> nobody. </em> In Insomnia, demons grudgingly bowed to him; mortals meanwhile, fated to eternal damnation, quaked in his presence. And yet here in the Upper World, he was as mundane as anyone else.</p><p>Ironic? Maybe. But that had been the point of this little exercise of his father’s imagining, hadn’t it? To teach him to be <em> humble. </em></p><p>He strolled along the sidewalk, under the shade of the willow trees overhanging it. There were patches of gum stuck to the concrete, greying with age. It only seemed to grow in abundance the closer he got to campus.</p><p>He’d asked his father to send him to private school. Practically <em> begged. </em> This was the sort of thing that mattered to mortals, you see — if you were given the option to get something for free, or to pay for it, you took the one that cost a small fortune because that <em> had </em> to mean it was better. Public school meant public <em> funding </em>: cutbacks and teachers so jaded they made adulthood sound like the worst kind of prison.</p><p>As with so many of Noct’s small battles with the King of Hell, this was one he had lost.</p><p>‘Probably doesn’t even have air conditioning,’ he muttered, kicking at the ground.</p><p>It struck him then, probably for the first time since Ignis had first dragged him to meet the headmaster for enrolment. He’d made it through junior high, somehow — only to have to face four more years of this same abject torture. Stuffy classrooms; yawn-inducing lessons; the incessant buzz of pubescent gossiping and laughter. Eating the same awful cafeteria food every day; getting shoulder-checked in the hallways by sneering jocks he could’ve easily smited, if he’d only been allowed.</p><p>He plotted petty acts of mutiny as he walked. If he missed the first day, who would his father be to know? The King of the Underworld hardly had time to answer phone calls from the principal of his son’s mortal high school.</p><p>Ignis, though… Ignis could be a problem. He’d already made it pretty clear that he wouldn’t tolerate any more of Noct’s rebellious hijinks after the incident with the baseball team’s mascot back in junior high; even Noct wasn’t reckless enough to stoke <em> that </em> particular fire again.</p><p>Besides — even if he managed to skip the first day scot-free, there would always be the next, and the next, and the next. He could think of no greater torture.</p><p>He arrived, with a reluctant sigh, at the gates of what was to be his own personal Hell for the next four years. It was an ugly goliath of soulless concrete; if only the windows had been fitted with bars, it might have been indistinguishable from a prison. The grounds out front had been landscaped with trees that seemed to have given up sometime in their infancy, leaving bent, scrawny husks of what they could have been. A sign at the edge of the paving slab path implored students to keep off the lawn, as if the trampling of teenagers’ feet could make the limp, yellowing grass look any more pathetic than it already did.</p><p>Noct lingered by the gate, hardly paying attention to his peers as they passed him by.</p><p>Maybe there was still time for him to convince his father; it would take little more than a wave of his hand to summon the Regalia to bring him right to the heart of Insomnia.</p><p>He didn’t need to try it, though, to know that his father wouldn’t be swayed; didn’t need to travel through the depths of the Underworld and see his father, face-to-face, to imagine the kindness his ancient face would wear, even as he stiffly refused his son his childish request.</p><p>Noct grabbed the shoulder strap of his backpack and tugged it tighter, lifting his chin. The stream of students heading to class was already starting to thin; nobody seemed to spare him a second glance as he joined the trickle of bodies marching through the gates.</p><p>For all intents and purposes, he was invisible — and that suited him just fine. If his peers didn’t bother him, he’d leave them alone, and perhaps they’d all make it out of this place in four years’ time unscathed. Relatively speaking, anyway.</p><p>Little did he know, he wasn’t quite as invisible as he thought. </p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>By the time lunch swung around, he was about ready to give up.</p><p>The day so far had mostly just been orientation — being led around the school in groups so big they couldn’t fail to draw attention, while the upperclassmen gawked and smirked. Noct hadn’t been able to tell if they saw in their younger peers what they had once been, or if they saw them as prey.</p><p>At least it was easy enough to blend into the crowd in the cafeteria. With no tables free, Noct’d had to perch himself at the far end of a table where another group sat, but they left him alone and he had no intentions of introducing himself.</p><p>His school was one of the <em> Healthy Meals </em> ones, so no pizza or hot dogs like the places he’d seen on TV, but if he’d used his innate powers to convince the server to give him an extra couple pudding cups, it wasn’t like anybody had been there to stop him.</p><p>He pushed his pudding around in the cup, lifting it up on the spoon and letting it slide off the tip of the plastic with a satisfying <em> gloop. </em></p><p>What would the other demons have been doing right now, at that moment — the ones who counted as his peers? It was pretty rare for demonkind to procreate, but it happened often enough that the concept of teenagers existed in the Underworld. Maybe they didn’t go to high school or join cheer squad or give each other promise rings, but they were there.</p><p>If not for his father’s big plan, he’d probably be sitting at the edge of a sulphur pool miles from the Citadel, air rife with the stink of brimstone, passing a bottle of alcohol back and forth with his friends. The kind of hooch that would literally burn out a mortal’s insides if they were stupid enough to sip it.</p><p><em> Friends. </em> It seemed like such an abstract concept. The few younglings he’d known growing up in Insomnia had been scared of him, scared to even look at the spawn of the King of the Underworld in case they set a foot out of line. The older ones, those jaded enough not to be impressed to be in the presence of the Crown Prince of Hell, barely even spared him a second glance.</p><p>He’d always been in-between. Not quite one of the regular demons, but too green behind the ears to be taken seriously at court. And now that he’d spent so long in the Upper World, that rift had only slashed all the deeper.</p><p>‘You got chocolate? No fair! All the good ones were gone when I got mine…’</p><p>The voice melted into the cacophony of teenage chatter; he tuned it out, barely blinking. When a shadow crossed his vision, though, it was a little harder to ignore.</p><p>When he glanced up, there was a boy sitting across the table from him. Blond, freckles, a big crooked grin. For some reason, he’d picked this particular table to sit at.</p><p>Noct looked down at his own tray. He’d barely eaten any of his pudding; the other cups were untouched. He grabbed the chocolate flavour and tossed it across the table, figuring that would be enough to satisfy the boy.</p><p>He didn’t leave, though. Instead, he opened up the pudding and speared his spoon into it. When he took a mouthful, he moaned around the plastic cutlery, eyelids fluttering shut, like he was dining in the most sublime luxury.</p><p>Noct sighed and looked down at the gloopy mess his own pudding had become.</p><p>‘Pretty daunting, huh?’ the boy said. ‘The school I used to go to was tiny. I forgot everybody’s names here already.’</p><p>It seemed he was expecting some sort of response. Noct made a vague sound and lifted his shoulders in the slightest of shrugs. He hadn’t been listening to any of the names of his new classmates; it was doubtful he’d need to remember any of them, anyways.’</p><p>‘You’re Noctis, though, right?’</p><p>Noct shuddered. The only people — using that word loosely — who called him <em> Noctis </em> were his father and Ignis.</p><p>‘Just Noct,’ he mumbled.</p><p>He could barely even remember the surname they’d concocted for him, to blend into the human world. Something about skies and lights.</p><p>‘I’m Prompto.’</p><p>A hand thrust out toward him, across the table. The nails were bitten down to nubs; pen ink stained the pads of the fingers in splotches and lines.</p><p>If Noct were looking to be polite, he would have taken the hand and shaken it. Maybe even thrown in a <em> Nice to meet you, </em> if he really wanted to lay it on thick. He wasn’t here to make friends, though. He was here to survive until graduation, and then leave this place behind forever.</p><p>The hand stayed there, waiting for him, for an embarrassingly long time. Couldn’t this kid take a hint?</p><p>Finally, the hand dropped.</p><p>‘I think, uhhhh, we have History together.’</p><p>Prompto sounded a little less sure of himself now. Like Noct’s rebuffal had rubbed away some of his shiny cheer. Whatever.</p><p>Noct cleared his throat. Not quite an answer. More of a <em> You’re annoying me now, please go away. </em></p><p>‘Welp, I should get going,’ Prompto said, hopping to his feet. ‘Go scope out the rest of the competition, y’know?’</p><p>Noct barely acknowledged him with a shrug.</p><p>‘Be seein’ you around, not-Noctis. Thanks for the pudding cup!’</p><p>It would’ve been easy to think, with just how breezy the boy was, that the rejection had been all but forgotten — that the cheery demeanour that’d slid back into place was a sign that no lasting damage had been done.</p><p>Even if that wasn’t the case, Noct told himself he didn’t care — that it wasn’t his job to stroke the ego of some scrawny kid.</p><p>Still, he couldn’t help but watch out of the corner of his eye as the blond marched over to a different table and sat down, alone this time. Couldn’t help but notice the way the kid’s shoulders slumped the tiniest bit, as if in defeat.</p><p>He didn’t give a shit if he’d hurt the boy’s feelings. Of <em> course </em> he didn’t.</p><p>That tiny, gnawing little feeling in his stomach? Whatever it was, he swallowed it down. In four years’ time, this place would be far behind him — and he wouldn’t remember any of this, least of all some boy named Prompto.</p>
<hr/><p>𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖚𝖒𝖓, 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕱𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖙𝖍 𝖄𝖊𝖆𝖗</p><p>‘Homework first. Video games after.’</p><p>
  <em> Ugh. </em>
</p><p>The better part of four years in the Upper World, and homework was something Noct would <em> never </em> get used to. Ignis didn’t seem to understand his plight; if anything, he seemed to <em> enjoy </em> being the one to make sure Noct’s homework was signed, sealed and delivered.</p><p>Noct shot the other demon a withering look, but he saved his game and shut the system down before Ignis got the chance to kick up a stink.</p><p>Even in all the torture of living as a mortal teenager in the Upper World, at least he had video games to keep him afloat. His father liked to point to the arts — literature, paintings, all that junk — as the pinnacle of human creation. For Noct, though, it was the singular joy of holding a controller in his hand, and watching the buttons he pressed reflected in what happened on the screen.</p><p>In video games, you could be anything: a deadly assassin, a sharply-honed knife in the night; a hardened space marine on the frontlines of an intergalactic war. Even for a demon, coming from a realm where the mere <em> concept </em>of dividing people based on gender was mocked as one of the most foolhardy of human fabrications, it was a novelty for Noct to be able to pick up a game and play as a girl, if he wanted to.</p><p>He even took a guilty sort of pleasure in the games set in the Underworld, or humankind’s imagining of what it must be like. So far, only a couple had come even close to getting it right.</p><p>At least most of his homework consisted of refreshing his memory on stuff he’d already covered ad nauseum during his freshman year. He might have cared as little for schoolwork as he did his classmates, but he was capable at least of absorbing enough information to get by. He might not need any of this in the Underworld, but some of it was actually <em> interesting. </em></p><p>Math, though, was not. Numbers were imaginary concepts, a linguistic creation meant to convey something that could be plainly seen with the naked eye. And then all the stuff with probability, and circles, and finding the length of one side of a triangle when you only knew one of the others — whoever decided to cram all of that down the throats of teenagers, and expect them to regurgitate it in some sort of coherent way, would clearly have been better suited to a job in the Hellscape.</p><p>As he pored over the seemingly nonsensical lines of numbers and letters and weird squiggly symbols, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was an easier way to deal with all of this. A way that didn’t involve giving himself a headache.</p><p>In his old school, there had been kids who would take money just to write papers for you, or fix all the sloppy errors in your homework. It had been something of a micro-economy unto itself, and Noct had found himself impressed by the young entrepreneurs around him who were only too happy to charge exorbitant fees for assignments that had probably taken them less than an hour to do.</p><p>There were a couple of kids in his Calc class that sprang to mind — the ones who actually <em> enjoyed </em> getting called on by the teacher. For the most part, he’d managed to avoid crossing paths with them. He had nothing to offer them, so they wasted no breath on him, either.</p><p>He made a cursory attempt at his assignment, but it wasn’t long before he gave up and took up the controller once more. He’d try to finish the work in the morning, with a fresh set of eyes. If he happened to find somebody who could help him… even better.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>Unfortunately, his homework hadn’t magically completed itself overnight — neither had a few hours of sleeping like the dead done anything to give him the innate knowledge he’d been missing. He lied, of course, when Ignis asked him about it; sometimes it felt like his guardian was <em> looking </em> for an excuse to chastise him, and Noct wasn’t about to hand one to him on a platter.</p><p>He told himself that none of it mattered, but there was a knot in his stomach when he walked towards the school from Ignis’s usual dropoff spot. He’d barely gotten a quarter of the questions completed, and even <em> he </em> could tell he hadn’t come anywhere close to getting the right answers. The <em> last </em> time he’d come into class without his homework done, he’d been the first one called on. It had taken a <em> long </em> time to live down the humiliating tirade he’d been subjected to. </p><p>Maybe he could dip into the Armiger and find an incantation from one of the tomes he’d stashed there. If there wasn’t one about calculus, he was pretty sure he could find something to make the teacher temporarily forget Noct was part of the class.</p><p>He was still mulling it over as he walked through the gate and down the path toward the school building. Calculus was first period, but maybe he could duck into the bathroom before the bell rang…</p><p>A loud thunk nearby caught his attention; a surprised yelp had him snapping his head towards the sound. In the grass alongside the path, <em> Keep Off </em> sign be damned, a blond boy sat nursing his head. Judging from the ball bouncing away from him over the lawn, he’d just been hit.</p><p>Two guys on the path — clad in armour of matching sweatshirts for the field hockey team —  gave each other triumphant high-fives. The bigger of the two slung his arm around the girl beside him, and she flipped her brown hair over her tanned shoulder with one last snide look toward her boyfriend’s victim before they departed.</p><p>Noct had seen similar, and worse, in his stint in the Upper World; bullying wasn’t exactly a novelty to him. He would have been more than happy to put the whole incident out of his thoughts — until he spotted the calculus book in the grasp of the boy who’d been hit in the head with the ball.</p><p>The kid looked naggingly familiar as Noct approached — messy blond hair, too many freckles crammed into the limited real estate on his face. He thought maybe they shared a few classes, or something. It wasn’t important, anyway.</p><p>‘Hey,’ he said. ‘You.’</p><p>The boy looked up as Noct strode across the grass. There was a moment, a heartbeat, where he seemed like he was going to jump to his feet in his surprise. Noct was almost impressed that he managed to rein it in so quickly and put on a cool air of disinterest instead.</p><p>‘Sup,’ the boy said, casual as could be. As if he didn’t still have a red mark on his cheek where the ball had smacked into him. He used his chin to point to the sign warding them off the lawn. ‘I see you’re a rebel, too.’</p><p>Noct barely fought the urge to roll his eyes. If he wanted this kid’s help, he’d have to at least act like he could tolerate him.</p><p>Noct kept going until he was in front of the other boy. He brandished his calculus book, waving it in front of the boy’s face.</p><p>‘I need last night’s assignment,’ he said. ‘500 gil sound good?’</p><p>Judging by the look on the kid’s face, he’d swung too low. He tried again, a little higher this time.</p><p>‘A thousand.’</p><p>That look didn’t budge — the raised eyebrows, the mouth hanging slightly open. Noct could easily afford to double it to two thousand, but it was the principle of the thing; two thousand was <em> way </em> above market value for barely ten minutes of work.</p><p>He huffed.</p><p>‘Fine. Two thous—’</p><p>The boy held up a hand, pushing the proffered book out of his face.</p><p>‘Dude. I’m not taking your money to do your homework for you. I’m not even in your class.’</p><p><em> Always a price, </em>Noct reminded himself. He just wanted the assignment over and done with so he didn’t have to deal with Ignis getting on his case at home.</p><p>‘Look,’ he said, throwing up a hand. ‘I get it. You’re squeaky-clean, right? Wouldn’t want Mommy and Daddy to find out their precious boy is helping kids <em> cheat. </em> Here’s the thing, though. This is a one-time thing. You do this assignment, and I’m out of your hair. Just name a price.’</p><p>Slowly, inexorably, the expression on the boy’s face shifted, sagging.</p><p>‘You don’t get it, dude. If you needed help, all you had to do was ask.’</p><p>It wasn’t like demons didn’t have a word for <em> help. </em> There were plenty of sticky situations a demon could get themselves into, and usually there was somebody around to help them get out of it — unless it was something really bad, like helping a mortal escape from the Underworld, although Noct had only heard of that happening, like, once.</p><p>He knew that <em> helping each other </em> was something mortals did, too, but it was usually strictly quid-pro-quo. I’ve got your back, because you’re my friend and you know you’ll owe me, right?</p><p>So he wondered — if this kid didn’t want money, what exactly did he expect to get out of this?</p><p>‘What, like… a favour?’</p><p>The boy shrugged. The sun peeped out from behind the clouds for just a moment, and he had to shield his eyes with his arm so he could meet Noct’s eye.</p><p>‘Or whatever,’ he said. ‘It’s just Calc, man. I’m in the AP class anyways — we did all that stuff already.’</p><p>Noct weighed his options. On the one hand, he hated owing somebody — especially if he didn’t know how or when they’d come knocking for him to pay up. On the other, he <em> really </em> wanted the assignment over and done with.</p><p>‘Fine,’ he muttered.</p><p>Noct waited for the boy to clear a space beside him and settled down on the ground. The grass was spiky and blunt, freshly-cut; it prickled at him through the seat of his uniform slacks.</p><p>‘So what’d you have trouble with?’ the boy asked, flipping Noct’s book open to the page he’d earmarked.</p><p>Noct paused.</p><p>‘I mean… all of it.’</p><p>The boy whistled.</p><p>‘Okay, I’m guessing you’re not gonna be going for the AP program this year. That’s cool, though. Let’s see what we’re working with.’</p><p>And for the first time in his years in the Upper World, Noct sat and talked to a mortal — actually <em> talked. </em> Even if they were just going over homework, the kid trying with increasingly forceful cheer and futility to get something to stick, it was something Noct had never felt.</p><p>‘I’m Prompto, by the way,’ the boy said after a while, pushing his hair out of his face. ‘We... have a couple classes together.’</p><p><em> Prompto. </em> The name seemed a little familiar. Noct shrugged; mortals all looked pretty much the same to him.</p><p>Still, though — mortals <em> sucked </em> in their pride and petulance, the teenage ones most of all, but by the time the first bell rang and some of Prompto’s efforts were actually starting to sink in, Noct found himself wondering if maybe… maybe they weren’t <em> all </em> bad.</p>
<hr/><p>𝖂𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗, 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕱𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖙𝖍 𝖄𝖊𝖆𝖗</p><p>It started with homework. From there… it kind of spiralled.</p><p>It was the little things. A school trip outside the city, and the only free seat on the bus had been the one beside Prompto; pairing up in class, and as everyone else scrambled to their friends’ sides, Prompto had found his way over to Noct’s table. When Prompto started sitting beside him at lunch, Noct barely thought anything of it until suddenly it was a daily occurance.</p><p>Prompto was like a rot, creeping his way in through the foundations of an old house — and yet to call him a <em> rot </em> felt wrong somehow, with his cheery smile and the shiny demeanour that just never seemed to tarnish.</p><p>Noct hated to admit it — fought not to let the thought even cross his mind — but with Prompto’s bubbly presence, the first semester of sophomore year flew by in the blink of an eye. The lingering humidity of the summer gave way to the crisp fall air; before long, the black-and-orange decorations celebrating Hallow’s Eve were torn down to be replaced with Solstice colours.</p><p>Just two weeks remained of term. Once Noct got through winter finals, he was home free until January.</p><p>‘Uhhh, dude. I think you’re gonna wanna take another look at this.’</p><p>He flicked a glance up at Prompto over his biology book, and the manga he’d secreted within its pages. If the teacher presiding over study hall had noticed one of his students wasn’t actually doing schoolwork, he hadn’t said anything.</p><p>Prompto had been checking over one of Noct’s assignments for errors; he slid it across the table and tapped a passage on the middle of one of the pages.</p><p>Noct scooted closer and skimmed the words he’d written. He couldn’t see any glaring mistakes — but then, that was why he’d enlisted Prompto’s help in the first place. After squinting at it for a minute, he looked up at Prompto and gave a shrug.</p><p>‘What?’ he said. ‘I don’t see anything.’</p><p>Prompto heaved a sigh and tapped again at the page, as if the words might suddenly jump off of the paper and reassemble themselves in front of Noct in such a way that it would make sense.</p><p>‘This bit,’ Prompto said patiently. ‘You’ve got a pretty great imagination, but I don’t remember anything in the books about the Great Plague being started by a… uh, <em> morbus daemonibus.’ </em></p><p>Opening his mouth to protest, Noct found himself tensing. It was true, of course — the Great Plague that had torn through Eos six centuries earlier had begun as a prank war between two demons that blew way out of proportion, but it wasn’t as if the mortals knew that.</p><p>The whole <em> not blowing his cover </em> thing was kind of rule-number-one for his stay in the Upper World — or it had been, before Ignis had made some select additions of his own choosing — and even though a little slip of the tongue wasn’t likely to clue the mortals in on the fact that there was a whole demonic realm down there waiting for them, it was still a pretty sloppy mistake to make.</p><p>Sloppy, and lazy. The kind of screwup he’d been making more and more lately.</p><p>He laughed, shrugging it off.</p><p>‘Whoops. Must’ve been watching anime or something when I wrote it. Good catch.’</p><p>It was an easy fix, at least — a little white-out, and it was like it never existed.</p><p>‘So…’</p><p>Prompto said it just idly enough that it made Noct’s ears prick up suspiciously. He seemed to be only acting at how intent he was in his work, as if he was avoiding catching Noct’s eye.</p><p>‘You staying in town for Solstice?’</p><p>The whole concept behind Solstice — celebrating the return of the light and of longer days, to stave off the hopeless cold of the winter — wasn’t exactly something that registered among the demon castes. Noct knew, though, that it was something that mortals made a lot of fanfare around. He thought it might have been a nonsecular holiday once upon a time, but associations with any particular deity seemed to have been lost to time.</p><p>Noct managed a careless shrug.</p><p>‘Eh. Probably? My dad’s not super big on it.’</p><p>‘Not <em> big </em> on it?’</p><p>Prompto had given up on all pretenses of idle curiosity. Now that he had an answer, and it didn’t line up with whatever he’d been expecting, he was openly goggling at Noct from his seat, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open like some caricature out of the funny pages.</p><p>A familiar twinge of discomfort prickled at Noct’s collar. He didn’t <em> like </em> being scrutinised like this — like there was something that set him apart from everyone else. Maybe he should’ve just lied about it…</p><p>‘Please,’ Prompto said, reaching across the table and grabbing at Noct’s wrists with such uncharacteristic urgency it made Noct start. <em> ‘Please </em> tell me you guys do gifts.’</p><p>Again, all Noct could do was shrug.</p><p>‘Okay, dude, we are <em> fixing </em> that.’</p><p>What exactly ‘<em> fixing it’ </em> involved, Noct couldn’t get around to asking — Prompto whipped out his phone and fired off a message faster than Noct could blink. When the blond set his phone aside, there was smug satisfaction all over his face.</p><p>‘Clear out your schedule,’ he announced, steepling his hands behind his head and leaning back. ‘You’re spending Solstice with the Argentums this year.’</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>Noct had hoped that Ignis would rule out Prompto’s idea entirely and the issue would be taken out of Noct’s hands. He’d been so <em> certain </em> of it that he hadn’t even banked on <em> A Very Argentum Solstice </em> being a distant possibility — so when he’d casually brought it up with Ignis one evening during finals week, in the middle of a particularly gruelling Crown-mandated debriefing, he’d been more than a little surprised that the guardian demon had actually called it a <em> good </em> idea.</p><p>‘I’m certain His Majesty would approve, at any rate,’ Ignis had said, not bothering to look up as he flipped through the pages on his agenda. ‘A chance to experience a mortal tradition in a mortal home sounds like <em> precisely </em> the sort of opportunity he’d meant for you to take advantage of in your time here.’</p><p>Even Gladio — with whom Noct typically butted heads no less than half a dozen times each day on what could be considered reckless behaviour for an heir of the King of Hell — wasn’t swayed by Noct’s repeated attempts to convince him that it might be dangerous to spend an entire week away from his guardians’ watchful eyes.</p><p>‘You’ll be with mortals,’ Gladio’d snorted. ‘What’re they gonna do, give you food poisoning?’</p><p>So the last of the finals came and went, and Saturday rolled around, and despite Noct’s best protestations he found himself in the car with Ignis, powerless to fight his fate.</p><p>‘Come on, Noct,’ Ignis said. ‘Do at least <em> try </em> to get into the Solstice spirit.’</p><p>If Noct didn’t know better, he’d say Iggy was <em> enjoying </em> himself. Maybe he’d change his tune if <em> he </em>were the one doomed to spend the day stuck with three mortals and a cat.</p><p>As if to add insult to injury, Ignis insisted on playing cheesy Solstice music over the radio, and Noct spent the whole ride serenaded with awful, warbling tunes about crackling fires and joyful children.</p><p>Parked by the side of the road outside Prompto’s house, Noct cast a doubtful look toward the building. It looked like a typical enough mortal abode of red brick, with a paved drive that had a little hatchback parked at a jaunty angle. Through the glass door of the porch he could see a miniature pine tree strung up with little lights, and candles burned in each of the windows, where sprigs of holly hung from the corners. The Argentums’ cat lay nestled on the windowsill in the front room, slumbering happily.</p><p>Noct squinted. Was that <em> fake snow </em> on the glass?</p><p>He groaned, loud enough that he prompted a chuckle from Ignis.</p><p>‘Have you got the gift I procured for you?’</p><p>Noct unconsciously patted the backpack sitting in the foot well in front of him. He didn’t know <em> what </em> exactly Ignis had ‘procured’, but whatever it was it had to be better than showing up empty-handed. If Noct cared about that sort of thing, that is.</p><p>‘I’ll pick you up after dinner tomorrow,’ Ignis said. ‘If you need me urgently before then, you know how to reach myself, or Gladiolus — and no, being bored doesn’t count as urgent. Now go on, and try to enjoy yourself.’</p><p>Grumbling, Noct got out of the car. He turned around to mutter a complaint to Ignis, but the demon pulled the door shut before he could get a word out, and promptly took off.</p><p>‘Screw you too, Iggy…’</p><p>He turned around and looked up at the house. It was a pretty modest place, by mortal standards, but he couldn’t help feeling tiny in its presence. For the past few years in the Upper World, it’d been easy enough to coast by, even at times when he felt like he didn’t belong — to remind himself that after his stint here was done, he’d go back to his rightful place at his father’s side, by the throne of Insomnia. Here, he would be a guest in someone else’s home. Somewhere he couldn’t simply storm away from if he didn’t like what was served up for dinner.</p><p>He sighed. Maybe Ignis was right — maybe it would be okay. Maybe if he managed to loosen up a little, he might actually have some <em> fun. </em> It wasn’t as if Prompto was all that bad to hang around with.</p><p>The porch door was unlocked; he slid it open and stepped inside, and the smell of pine washed over him. He barely managed to knock on the front door before it burst open, and he was assailed with an all-too-cheery melody of <em> ‘Happy Solstice!’ </em></p><p>Prompto stood inside with a grin stretching from ear to ear, a crown of holly adorning his hair. He held a plate in his hands, loaded with sweet buns in the shape of figure-eights. Noct barely had time to think before they were thrust towards him.</p><p>‘Lussekatter!’ Prompto pronounced brightly. ‘Take one!’</p><p>Noct got the feeling it wasn’t a suggestion. He took one of the buns just to be on the safe side, and took a bite of it. It was buttery, and just a little bit sweet, with a hint of spice. It wasn’t half-bad.</p><p>‘Let’s go inside. The parental units are dying to meet you.’</p><p>Noct had only a moment to dwell on the phrase ‘parental units’ before Prompto grabbed his hand and dragged him inside. The hallway was decorated similarly to the outside of the house, with holly all over the place and twinkle lights glittering where they’d been twined through the railing of the stairs.</p><p>Prompto led him inwards, ignoring the first door on the left, and the one tucked in beneath the strairs, and brought him all the way to the end. He opened the door and gestured Noct inside, and Noct found himself walking into a kitchen that was thick with the stuffy heat of an oven that had probably been blasting all day. A table sat to the right side of the room, with four place settings already laid out. A wicker goat held pride of place in the middle of the table. Noct couldn’t even begin to figure out what <em> that </em> was about.</p><p>‘You must be Noct!’</p><p>A tall woman with warm brown skin greeted him from in front of the stove, where she stood hopping her attention between an array of pots. Whatever she was cooking, it smelled <em> good. </em> Noct’s stomach rumbled in spite of him.</p><p>She dusted her hands off on the apron she wore — a vintage-style one with an assortment of baby chicks frolicking on the front — and crossed to shake his hand.</p><p>‘I’m Nasrin. Offload your stuff with Prompto and make yourself comfortable. You’re just in time for dinner!’</p><p>Prompto stood with waiting hands, having slipped the buns onto the table where they added a cheery yellow to the existing shades of green and silver from the ornamental arrangement in the centre. Somewhat awkwardly, Noct shrugged his backpack off his shoulders and handed it to Prompto.</p><p>‘Geez, dude, this weighs a ton,’ Prompto said, feigning difficulty as he hefted the backpack onto his own shoulder. ‘Did you change your mind about staying for the week?’</p><p>Heat prickling at his cheeks, Noct shook his head. He hadn’t even wanted to stay for one night, but Ignis had taken a sadistic sort of glee in agreeing with Prompto that there wouldn’t be much point in dropping him off for dinner only to have to pick him up again immediately after.</p><p>‘Oh, there’s a gift in there. I don’t know if you wanna—’</p><p>Prompto wasted no time opening the zip, pulling the wrapped package out. He probably would’ve torn it open in his overeagerness if Nasrin hadn’t clucked her tongue at him from her post at the stove.</p><p>‘Patience, kiddo,’ she said affectionately, the corners of her dark eyes crinkling. ‘You already opened your gift from Auntie Jo. Go put it with the others.’</p><p>‘But <em> Ma,’ </em> Prompto whined, dragging out the syllable. Nasrin shot him a look that silenced him in an instant.</p><p>With a huff, he retreated from the room, although Noct could see him squeezing the parcel to try to figure out what was inside it. Ignis had wrapped it so tight and compact that even <em> Noct </em> didn’t know what it was.</p><p>‘Take a seat, Noct,’ Nasrin said, nodding towards the table. ‘Wherever you like.’</p><p>Noct muttered out a soft thanks and moved over to the table, taking the seat closest to the door. In case he needed to beat a hasty retreat.</p><p>For an awkward few minutes, Noct whiled away the time answering Nasrin’s idle chitchat. She asked him the standard questions — where he was from, if he shared classes with Prompto — but thankfully they didn’t go beyond the superficial. He had a cover story that he’d rehearsed before he first came to the Upper World, but it stood under the assumption that nobody would ask him anything really tricky.</p><p>When Prompto returned, he looked guilty. Nasrin seemingly picked up on it immediately.</p><p>‘I counted those gifts, Prompto. There better not be any missing.’</p><p>It was all so mundane, so unremarkable; ordinarily, such an interaction would sicken Noct with how utterly <em> human </em> it all was.</p><p>As he sat and watched, though — as Prompto’s other mom, Bella, returned from work and fussed over Prompto and her wife alike — he couldn’t quite shake the strange feeling in his chest. An ache, almost. Like his heart was full, and yet lacked something all at once.</p><p>It was Bella who caved in the end — Bella who let Prompto open <em> one </em> present when they retired to the living room, and for some reason he picked the one Noct had got him. </p><p>Noct sat in a chair far from the fire, as far from the festivities as he could get, where the cat had made itself at home on his lap. He distracted himself by brushing his fingers through the feline’s silky coat, trying not to squirm uncomfortably as he watched Prompto dig his fingertips under the edges of Ignis’s careful wrapping. Noct didn’t know what Ignis had picked out, and he shouldn’t <em> care, </em> but he found himself almost <em> anxious </em> to see whether Prompto would like it or not.</p><p>It was a T-shirt, and Noct sucked in a breath in apprehension — but then Prompto held it up to himself and turned to show him with a grin dimpling his cheeks, and Noct saw the characters of the anime that Prompto could never shut up about, splashed across the front of it. Of course; he’d babbled about it, once, when Ignis had offered to give him a ride home from school with Noct.</p><p>Noct’s stomach fluttered; pleasure heated his cheeks.</p><p>As Prompto rushed over and practically dislodged the cat in his haste to pull him into a hug, he couldn’t help but silently thank Ignis. It wasn’t like it mattered whether Prompto liked his gift, anyway — but if it had… then Ignis had really done him a favour.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>𝕾𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌, 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕱𝖎𝖋𝖙𝖍 𝖄𝖊𝖆𝖗</p><p>They’d made it through one semester already; the end of the school year was so close that it felt as if Noct could reach out and grab it, if he only tried hard enough. Junior high had been hard enough to acclimatise to, but high school was an entirely different beast; barely halfway through the program, Noct couldn’t be more eager to see the back of it.</p><p>Before that, though, there was another semester of classes to sit through, and more finals — the insistence on keeping students in a constant state of stress with tests looming around every corner wouldn’t have been out of place in some of the darkest corners of Hell.</p><p>Worst of out of all of it, in Noct’s opinion, was <em> gym class. </em></p><p>‘I still don’t see the point to this,’ he groaned, making his third lap of the track.</p><p>Prompto, easily keeping pace at his side, seemed unperturbed. He grinned and clapped Noct on the shoulder, and it was all Noct could do not to buckle. The blond always surprised him with how strong he was; he definitely didn’t look it.</p><p>‘C’mon, man! Fresh air, exercise… it’s good for you!’</p><p>Noct shot him a doubtful look, although he turned his eyes pretty quickly back to the track. It was a relatively straight path, but his legs had a habit of doing their own thing sometimes when he wasn’t paying attention. Ignis had assured him it was a normal part of growing up as a mortal, but Noct hadn’t been convinced.</p><p>‘If you say so,’ he muttered.</p><p>Prompto didn’t seem to hear him.</p><p>All that gym seemed to accomplish was to get Noct’s lungs searing and his muscles burning. Whether he made an effort or not, it was always just as exhausting the next time. Some people did this for <em> fun. </em></p><p>His ears were filled with the pounding of two pairs of feet on the tartan track, of his own breath huffing out raggedly. He could hear other students nearby, too — the competitive cheerleaders barking out their chants as they performed athletic feats he could barely get his head around.</p><p>Soon, another noise joined the chorus: the pounding of more sets of feet and, as they grew closer behind Noct and Prompto, the sound of someone imitating a pig’s oink.</p><p>He almost laughed, but the sound died on his lips as he glanced at Prompto and saw the look of pain on his companion’s face.</p><p>‘Don’t react,’ Prompto said, in a hurried whisper.</p><p>‘What are they—’</p><p>‘Just ignore it.’</p><p>Noct did as best he could, although the sound was hard to put out of his mind as it got louder. He knew enough from his years in public school to be able to tell that the piggy squeals and snorts, and the cacophony of girlish laughter that intertwined with it, were meant to mock someone. Judging from Prompto’s discomfort, there was little mystery who it was aimed at.</p><p>‘Prompto—’</p><p><em> ‘Ignore </em> it,’ Prompto hissed. ‘They’re not worth the attention.’</p><p>But the sounds didn’t stop, even as the other kids caught up, and Noct couldn’t help shooting a glance over his shoulder. </p><p>It was a group of girls, all pretty in the forgettable sort of way that made them the subject of adoration in the student body. The mean-girl clique that everybody either loved, or loved to hate. He shared Bio with one of them, but she’d never so much as given him the time of day; other than her, he couldn’t have even guessed at the names of the rest of her posse.</p><p>Even if he didn’t know them well, he definitely knew <em> of </em> them, and of their escapades. They were the kind of girls you tried not to make eye contact with in the hallway, unless you intended on putting a target on your back. Sometimes, though, avoiding them only made them <em> worse. </em></p><p>It all happened so quickly.</p><p>The leader of the group, with her tanned skin and chesnut hair, passed Prompto by with one of her cronies on her heels. In a flurry of movement so fast most onlookers might not have noticed, the crony clipped Prompto with her shoulder, full-force, and Noct could only watch in dismay as his companion stumbled, falling on all fours.</p><p>‘Oops. Sorry, Piggy!’ the leader proclaimed, in a high-pitched voice that was so insincere it made Noct’s hackles stand up.</p><p>In unison, the other girls burst into peals of mocking laughter.</p><p>Anger burned through Noct, and if he’d been alone he would’ve torn off after those girls and given them a piece of his mind, Underworld style — but before he could, Prompto called out to him meekly.</p><p>‘Forget about them, dude. They’re just assholes.’</p><p>The rage still coursed through Noct’s veins but he fended it off, winding his jog down to a trot and stopping entirely, before turning around to assess the damage. Prompto had picked himself up enough to sit down on his backside where he rubbed at his ankle, wincing in pain.</p><p>If those girls had <em> hurt </em> him in any way, Noct <em> swore </em> on his father’s throne…</p><p>‘I don’t think it’s a sprain,’ Prompto said cheerily. ‘Just went over on it funny. I’ll be okay.’</p><p>Noct wasn’t convinced by Prompto’s bright demeanour.</p><p>‘Are you just gonna let them get away with that?’</p><p>Prompto shrugged.</p><p>‘It’s fine, seriously. I went to school with Vita, back when I used to be… y’know.’</p><p>His cheeks were a vibrant magenta, and he wouldn’t quite meet Noct’s eye. If the <em> ‘Piggy’ </em> comment were anything to go by, Noct could understand what Prompto was getting at.</p><p>Noct would never be able to understand the extent of human cruelty, no matter how long he spent amongst the mortals. Sometimes, the kids were the worst — they seemed to single-mindedly pick out whatever a person was self-conscious about and use it as a weapon to inflict as much misery as possible. He’d been teased for being so scrawny back in junior high, when he hadn’t had the arm strength to climb up the rope in gym. It had taken everything in him — and Ignis’s nagging voice of reason — not to unleash the brunt of his fury upon his bullies.</p><p>And yet here Prompto was, nursing a sore ankle and a bruised ego, and he didn’t even look <em> mad. </em> Noct couldn’t understand it.</p><p>Furious, Noct looked around for the coach, but he was busy with the cheer squad and apparently hadn’t noticed anything. Noct had a right mind to march over and explain what had happened.</p><p>‘Let’s just hit the showers,’ Prompto said. ‘I’ll get an absence slip from the nurse.’</p><p>He needed Noct’s hand to get back up; he could put weight on his ankle, but only gingerly, and Noct needed to support him on his way back to the school building.</p><p>Prompto’s cheery outlook slipped back into place before long, and he was soon cracking jokes about how Noct owed the girls his thanks for getting him out of gym early. Noct didn’t get how his friend could forgive and forget so easily; couldn’t fathom how he wasn’t consumed with rage over the injustice of it all. </p><p>Maybe Prompto had put it behind him, but it wasn’t so easy for Noct.</p><p>He wondered if those girls knew just who they’d made an enemy out of in their petty antics.</p>
<hr/><p>𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖗, 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕱𝖎𝖋𝖙𝖍 𝖄𝖊𝖆𝖗</p><p>It was a weird thing, having a friend. Noct had expected that after the school year came to an end, he and Prompto would go their separate ways — but then Prompto had called him about a week into vacation to see if he wanted to hit up an arcade, and Noct had found himself agreeing to go along for want of anything better to do.</p><p>Even without the hostile territory of high school to have Noct seeking out an ally, he found himself grateful for Prompto’s company over the course of the summer. It turned out that playing games with somebody else could be even more fun than playing alone — and the guy had a pretty awesome collection of manga and comic books, which he was all too happy to let Noct borrow from.</p><p>They spent the hottest days in the refuge of the arcade, sucking down slushies and sodas in the comfort of the air conditioning; on the cooler days, when a delicious breeze blew through the city, they made the streets their own.</p><p>It felt as though summer was coming to an end all too soon; try as Noct might try to hold onto it, the days kept slipping through his fingers like grains of sand.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>‘It’s just a little bit farther!’</p><p>Noct huffed through the humid, cotton-wool air and continued his ailing attempts at keeping up while his friend forged a path ahead, following the bright pink ribbons tied to tree trunks on the path to their destination. He didn’t know how Prompto could keep up such a fast pace through the undergrowth with vines and roots snarling over the path — especially with a backpack full of supplies on his shoulders — but he didn’t seem fazed in the least.</p><p>Noct couldn’t help but think, exasperated, that <em> he </em> was supposed to be the superhuman one. Next time — if, Hells forbid there <em> were </em> a next time — he’d ask for a more capable meat-suit.</p><p>Prompto was true to his word, at least. Soon enough the tangle of trees began to open out, more and more light permeating through them; before long they reached the edge of the treeline and found themselves at the shore of a lake. There was a cabin on a pier, the door hanging open. The eaves of the cabin were lit up with lanterns, and music spewed out from inside of it: pounding stuff that made Noct’s head throb even from far away.</p><p>If there could have been any confusion about whether they were in the right place, the scattering of teenagers along the shore and in the water put Noct’s doubts to rest.</p><p>This was it, all right: Gralea High’s Official Unofficial Last Summer Blowout. Despite his misgivings — and he’d had many when Prompto had first tried to coax him into coming along — Noct felt a thrill of excitement ripple through him at the possibilities of what lay ahead.</p><p>‘You made it! We were worried you got lost.’</p><p>They were greeted by a girl with inky black hair and glasses. Noct fumbled to remember her name, but Prompto supplied it for him.</p><p>‘Don’t get your hopes up, Chan-mi. My video games are going to charity when I die.’</p><p>Chan-mi shrugged. With a shrewd look, she glanced Noct over.</p><p>‘Wow, P. You even coaxed the elusive Mr. Caelum out of his cave? I’m impressed.’</p><p>Noct prickled at so much attention trained on him, and tried to play it off cool. He didn’t really know how to do that, though, so he mostly just shuffled his feet in the dirt and pretended to look off into the distance.</p><p>If he was lucky, she’d forget he was there.</p><p>‘There’re drinks in the cabin,’ Chan-mi said, finally directing her attention back to Prompto. ‘Festivities are to stay <em> strictly </em> outdoors. If anybody pukes in Grammy’s cabin, there’ll be war.’</p><p>It sounded like a joke, but Prompto didn’t laugh.</p><p>‘Got it.’</p><p>Chan-mi turned and motioned off along the shore. A path had been lit up with more lanterns, leading through the trees.</p><p>‘Tents go over thataway,’ she said. ‘Restroom is as far the hell away from the tents and the cabin as you can get. Oh, and if I catch anybody having sex in the cabin, I <em> will </em> disown the culprits.’</p><p>Prompto raised his hand in a three-finger salute. He seemed very solemn about the whole thing.</p><p>Clucking her tongue, Chan-mi glanced around. It seemed she’d covered everything.</p><p>‘Be safe, kids,’ she said, with a nod of her head. ‘And remember — not in Grammy’s cabin.’</p><p>With these directives in mind, they were free to go about as they pleased. Noct looked at Prompto expectantly. He didn’t really know what the protocol was for something like this — go mingle, or get drunk enough not to be self-conscious and <em> then </em> go mingle.</p><p>‘We should set up the tent before it gets dark,’ Prompto suggested, jerking his head toward the trees. ‘Then we can scope the place out. Figure out who the cool kids are and avoid them like our lives depend on it.’</p><p>A handful of tents had already been set up. There was a big tipi-style tent in the middle of everything, with twinkle lights strung around the entrance. Noct wondered if it belonged to Chan-mi.</p><p>They picked a spot a little away from the others, closer to the shore side of the camp. The ground was pretty flat and soft here, and there was just enough space between the trees for the two-person tent they’d ‘borrowed’ from Prompto’s moms. Technically, Bella and Nasrin didn’t know it was gone. <em> Technically, </em>they thought Prompto was sleeping over at Noct’s tonight, under Ignis’s watchful eye.</p><p>Once they had the gear out, which Prompto meticulously sorted on the ground in order of shape and size, they stood surveying their task. Prompto had his hands on his hips, sucking his teeth from time to time.</p><p>It occurred to Noct that while he was waiting for Prompto to take charge, he probably didn’t have any idea of what to do first.</p><p>‘Okay,’ Prompto said, toeing at one of the ground spikes with his sneaker. ‘Let’s get this started.’</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>Their tent was a lopsided mess, but it started to matter a whole lot less when Chan-mi came over with alcopops and they sucked down some of the colourful, sugary liquid. They hung around the tents awhile and eventually, only after some nagging from Chan-mi and her friends, made their way towards the cabin.</p><p>Claiming their spot at the pier, they shed their shoes and sat with feet dangling in the lake. The water was cold and clear, and Noct exulted in the chill of it against his overheated skin. Their drinks were chilled, too, and Noct guzzled down more and more of the blue raspberry stuff to cool himself down.</p><p>Before long he was tipsy, and he didn’t even mind the shrieking laughter of the other partygoers, or the buzzing of the bugs, just at the edge of his vision.</p><p>‘I’ve got an idea,’ Prompto announced, rising suddenly to his feet. ‘Let’s go for a swim.’</p><p>And oh, Noct protested — went dead-weight when Prompto tried to pull him upright, moodily countering the brightest of Prompto’s encouragement. Prompto gave up, finally, but <em> he </em> didn’t seem to be persuaded; setting his drink aside, he stripped down to his boxers and tee.</p><p>‘Someday I’m gonna teach you to live a little,’ he said, grinning.</p><p>With that, he took off toward the end of the pier and jumped, tucking his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.</p><p>He made an almighty splash — a little bit closer and Noct would have been doused. Safe from the blast radius, he jumped to his feet to wait for Prompto to emerge, and didn’t stop holding his breath until his friend broke through the surface a few feet away from where he’d jumped in, his wet hair plastered to his head.</p><p>‘Hey, ‘fraidy cat!’ he taunted, his voice echoing over the still surface of the water. ‘Bet you can’t make a bigger splash than me!’</p><p>Noct rolled his eyes, and lifted his bottle to take a sip.</p><p>It was childish, and silly, and it was exactly the sort of ridiculous antics that Prompto tried to drag him into. <em> Tedious, </em> really.</p><p>And yet in spite of himself, Noct lowered his drink before the liquid could hit his lips. With a huffed-out sigh he climbed to his feet, decidedly less sprightfully than Prompto had, and stripped down to his underwear and shirt. At the edge of the pier he hesitated. He might have balked entirely if not for Prompto’s eager waving from where he paddled in the water.</p><p>There was an instant of regret once his feet left the safety of the wooden pier and he found himself suspended in the air above the water. The moment passed in the blink of an eye; too late to turn back, he plunged into the water, barely remembering to hold his breath.</p><p>It was deeper than he’d expected, and he went down and down and down, his feet never touching the bottom. He’d never been taught to swim, and even though he knew the mechanics of it, the particulars evaded him. Terror washed over him — if he couldn’t find the lake floor, how could he push himself back up to the surface? What if he drowned?</p><p>He floundered, waving his arms about uselessly in the water. This was it. The lowest point of his entire high school career. He was going to drown, and worst of all, everyone was going to see it.</p><p>Something wrapped around him, clinging to his middle, and for a terrifying instant he thought he’d gotten himself snagged in the weeds under the water — but then he was being pulled upwards, strong and sure, and his head broke through the water.</p><p>He sucked in a rattling, desperate lungful of oxygen. The air had never tasted so sweet.</p><p>Prompto was right there beside him, an arm wrapped tight around his waist. His face was pale with worry.</p><p>‘Are you okay? You <em> scared </em> me!’</p><p>Mutely, Noct nodded. Now that the danger had passed, he felt foolish for getting so scared. Of <em> course </em> he wouldn’t have drowned. It took a lot more than a few lungfuls of water to take down a demon.</p><p>‘Yeah. I’m fine.’</p><p>Maybe Prompto wasn’t convinced; maybe he just wanted to make sure. Either way, it seemed like he was reluctant to relinquish his hold around Noct’s middle. Even as they waded back to the shore, he let go only long enough to take Noct’s hand instead.</p><p>Shame and humiliation burned at Noct’s face, at his ears, and he cast a furtive glance along the shoreline to see if anyone had been watching — but everyone else was so wrapped up in their revelry that they either hadn’t noticed, or didn’t care much about it.</p><p>Oddly, he didn’t mind it when Prompto didn’t let go of his hand, even as they trudged onto the shore.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>Chan-mi, for all her stern admonishments, turned out to be a kind host. When Prompto bluntly explained that they’d had a mishap in the water, she’d grabbed towels for the both of them. It was probably assumed that she’d be expecting them back before the end of the night, but she left it unsaid.</p><p>Some of the kids gathered up wood from the forest, and before darkness fell there was a cheerful fire crackling on the beach. Prompto and Noct sat by the edge of it, still wrapped up in their oversized towels, and they sipped from bottles of beer and munched on snacks while the fire warmed the last of the water’s chill from their shivering bodies.</p><p>After the scare in the lake, Prompto never strayed far from Noct’s side. To Noct, who was used to being babysat by Ignis and Gladio, it should have been irritating. Incongruously, Noct found himself grateful for the company.</p><p>It wasn’t as if he was still scared of the water; in hindsight, he knew he hadn’t been in any real danger, and he was angry with himself for panicking. He was pleased that Prompto cared enough about him to worry, though, and if there was a very vocal part of him that felt disgust over such a thought, he pushed it far into the back of his mind.</p><p>Someone had brought a guitar, and the others took turns at strumming on it with varying success. The girl closest to Noct offered the instrument to him next, but he shook his head. Prompto threw off his towel and greedily reached across him to grab it.</p><p>Noct wasn’t expecting much from his friend. He’d never seen Prompto playing before, and Noct knew him to be the type to pick up and discard hobbies before he ever got any mileage out of them. He was surprised, then, when — after a little aimless strumming — Prompto picked up a tune.</p><p>It was soft and melodic, and the sound of it might not have carried if not for the stillness of the night. A few of the other teenagers stopped chatting to listen; Noct found himself rapt, too.</p><p>After a little bit, Prompto added his voice to it, humming some meaningless harmony. As he gained confidence, he added words to the tune.</p><p><em> Now you don’t know me well </em> <em><br/>
</em> <em> But surely I know you </em> <em><br/>
</em> <em> Through time and space and memory </em> <em><br/>
</em> <em> It’s always been us two </em></p><p>It seemed there was more to the song, but by the pink of Prompto’s cheeks Noct gathered he’d realised people were paying attention to him. His singing tapered off to humming again, and his strumming cut off with a jarring twang. Smiling sheepishly, he handed the guitar off to the boy on his right.</p><p>Something had taken root inside Noct at the sound of Prompto’s voice, deep down. He resented the others for being there to hear Prompto’s song; he wished it had been just for him.</p><p>‘That was really good,’ he said softly. ‘Did you write that?’</p><p>Shrinking down into himself, Prompto gave a nod.</p><p>‘Just something dumb. It’s nothing.’</p><p>Noct wanted so <em> much </em> to protest that it very much <em> wasn’t </em> nothing, but the words clogged in his throat. He busied himself by lifting the brim of his drink to his lips, letting the beer wash the lump down.</p><p>What was it about Prompto? Out of all the mortals in the Upper World, why did it feel sometimes as if he held a sort of power over Noct?</p><p>Noct <em> hated </em> mortals, teenagers most of all — but Prompto was different. He made Noct want to <em> be </em> different.</p><p>‘Anyways,’ Prompto said suddenly. ‘We should probably—’</p><p>He never got the words out, though; his voice was cut off by hyena jeers coming from the trees, and for a split-second Noct thought some of the local wildlife had come to crash the party when he recognised the distinctly <em> human </em> sound of the animal calls.</p><p>‘Oh no,’ Prompto said, going pale.</p><p>The newcomers weren’t exactly being stealthy, crashing through the undergrowth and breaking branches under their feet. Noct heard the shattering sound of a glass being broken against the ground.</p><p>Noct saw the sea of maroon-and-silver of the Gralea High field hockey sweatshirts before he picked out any faces; the first to emerge from the treeline was a hulking figure with perfectly-coiffed blond hair, and the kind of build that would give Gladio’s meat-suit a run for his money in a few years’ time.</p><p>At Gralea High, there were two factions that counted for royalty — Vita and her gaggle of mean girls, and the boys from the field hockey team. Wherever Vita’s posse went, the field hockey boys were seldom far behind.</p><p>‘Is this a <em> party?’ </em> the leader boomed, surveying the gathering with a sweeping glance. ‘And we weren’t invited?’</p><p>As far as Noct could tell, Vita and her gang were nowhere in sight — a rarity — but that didn’t make him feel any better. Danger pulsed through the air like static.</p><p>Chan-mi stood up from her spot by the fire across from Noct and Prompto. She didn’t look remotely amused.</p><p>‘This is private property, Anthony.’</p><p>Anthony looked around, a caricature of innocent stupidity.</p><p>‘Oh, is it?’ he said, his voice comically slow. ‘See, I know that cabin over there belongs to your family, Chan-mi, but I don’t see anybody’s name on the lake.’</p><p>A jeer went through the gathered lettermen, as if what Anthony had said were the height of rhetoric.</p><p>Noct could see Chan-mi bristling; he felt a sort of kinship towards her, and admiration for her being able to keep her cool. He was struggling enough as it was.</p><p>He really, <em> really </em> hated teenagers.</p><p>‘Can we leave?’</p><p>Prompto’s voice was a meek whisper. He tugged at Noct’s shirt; when Noct glanced at him, he looked about ready to bolt into the night, darkness and creepy-crawlies notwithstanding.</p><p>It was probably better for everybody if they <em> did </em> go, but stubbornness roiled through Noct. He’d actually been having a good time, despite himself, and he wasn’t about to let Gralea High’s self-professed royalty ruin it.</p><p>Four and a half years in the Upper World, and Noct had mostly gotten through it by keeping his head down. He didn’t speak up in class; he didn’t join any clubs. The teachers seemed to think he had some kind of untapped potential, but he was more than happy to fade into the background. In high school, blending in was often key to survival.</p><p>For the first time, though, Noct couldn’t just sit by. He was sick of kids like Vita and her cronies getting away with murder; he was sick of people like Prompto — goofy, ever-positive Prompto — just lying down and taking it.</p><p>‘Why don’t you piss off?’ he deadpanned. ‘There’s plenty of other places along the lake.’</p><p>He didn’t notice the shift in the air at first; it took a little while for him to realise everyone around the fire had gone tense.</p><p>His ears pricked up at the sound of footsteps crunching over the pebbled shore. He was acutely, uncomfortably aware of someone standing right behind him.</p><p>‘And who <em> the fuck,’ </em> Anthony said, spitting venom, ‘are <em> you?’ </em></p><p><em> Danger. </em> The instinct pulsed inside Noct, some vestige of an era long-gone. He’d never held much reveration — or fear — for the boys in their field hockey sweatshirts, marching through the hallways at school. They were just a pack of alpha dogs with too much bad attitude and aggression for their own good.</p><p>For the first time, though, he considered what the self-elected king of Gralea High might be capable of, if left unchecked. There were no teachers here to keep him in line.</p><p>Prompto’s hand clutched at his, tugging.</p><p><em> ‘Noct,’ </em> he hissed. ‘Just drop it.’</p><p>Noct had no intentions of doing any such thing, but there was tension in the air and <em> someone </em>had to defuse it — across the fire, Chan-mi clapped her hands together, and the sound was so jarring it made Noct jump where he sat.</p><p>‘Okay! In the spirit of the Official Unofficial Last Summer Blowout, I’m willing to extend an olive branch. Anthony, you and your friends can stay. Everybody else, make some room.’</p><p>It wasn’t the resolution that Noct had been hoping for, and he could feel the strain in Prompto as he scooched closer to make room. Unfortunately, one of Anthony’s lieutenants picked the spot right beside Prompto; Anthony himself flopped down at Noct’s side.</p><p>‘You’re that weird, quiet kid, right?’ he said, clapping a hand on Noct’s shoulder. ‘Y’know, I never figured you the type to have a death wish.’</p><p>Anger simmered beneath the surface, making Noct’s blood boil. The only thing that held him back was Prompto’s hand squeezing his own.</p><p>‘Oh, Noct’s a big joker,’ Prompto bleated. ‘He was just messing with you! Right, Noct?’</p><p>He gave another squeeze. It was so tight it almost cut off the blood flow to Noct’s fingers.</p><p>Through gritted teeth, Noct replied.</p><p>‘Right.’</p><p>‘A joker, huh?’ Anthony echoed, in that same would-be innocent voice from earlier. ‘I can get behind that. Any friend of Argentum’s is a friend of mine, right? We’re practically related.’</p><p>Noct knew he was being baited; knew he should ignore the remarks and stick to quietly sipping his beer, but there was blood in the water and his self control was at an all-time low.</p><p>‘Related? How’s that?’</p><p>He felt Anthony’s arm slip around his shoulders. On the outside, it probably looked like a gesture of camaraderie. To Noct, it felt suffocating.</p><p>‘See,’ Anotonio said, ‘my girl, Vita, used to go to school with Argentum here. Used to be besties, ain’t that right?’</p><p>Prompto’s fingers were sweaty where they were twined through Noct’s.</p><p>‘Right,’ Prompto chirped. ‘Regular old BFFs. Sure thing.’</p><p>Why did Noct get the feeling there was more to it? Vita certainly hadn’t seemed very friendly with Prompto when she’d elected to have her lackey trip him over on the running track.</p><p>He’d ask Prompto about it later; first, they had to get through the night.</p><p>Anthony’s arm weighed down on his shoulder as he leaned closer.</p><p>‘What was your name again? Nicky?’</p><p>Noct swallowed down the sourness in his throat.</p><p>‘Noct,’ he said.</p><p>‘Noct. <em> Riiiight. </em> You know, the way Vita tells it, Prompto used to be a hit on the field hockey team at their school. In goals, ‘course. ‘Cause of the size advantage.’</p><p>Anthony sighed. He plucked the beer out of Noct’s hand and took a big gulp, draining most of it.</p><p>‘Shame you lost all that weight, Argentum,’ Anthony said, with a sigh. ‘Could use somebody like Piggy Prompto on the team. Hey — why’d you never try out for the boys’ team? Oh, wait—’</p><p>The world went red.</p><p>There was no party any more; no bonfire. Even Noct had ceased to be, replaced with a seething ball of rage. He didn’t need to let Anthony finish to know what he was going to say; didn’t need to see Prompto’s pale-faced terror to understand.</p><p>There was only rage, and instinct, and Noct’s fist flying up towards Anthony’s face.</p><p>Somewhere around the fire, somebody screamed.</p><p>So technically he’d never actually hit anyone before, but the mechanics of punching seemed simple enough. The problem was he didn’t close his fist properly, and no sooner had his knuckles made contact with Anthony’s jaw than pain exploded through his hand, shooting up through his wrist.</p><p>He didn’t have long to dwell on it. Prompto gave a yelp, and Noct saw that the guy on the other side of him had grabbed onto his shirt, ready to dish out payback on the closest warm body.</p><p>Before Noct could react, Anthony had recovered — he used his arm around Noct’s neck to grab on in a chokehold, and Noct could only look on as his lackey popped Prompto straight in the mouth.</p><p>
  <em> Red. Red, everywhere. Blindingly bright. </em>
</p><p>Noct didn’t even <em> think; </em> static rippled through him, and he tossed Anthony away from him as if he were a bug. Leaping to his feet and rounding on Prompto’s assailant, he raised his hand, and sent the guy flying across the shoreline, where he slumped like a ragdoll by the water’s edge.</p><p>The other members of the team seemed to have broken out of their stupor. One of them lunged forwards, but Noct easily swatted him away. His companions seemed reluctant to meet a similar fate.</p><p>‘I’m gonna kill you!’</p><p>He heard Anthony’s roar and turned just in time to see him bull-rushing forward; throwing a hand up, he caught Anthony without ever touching him, a phantom vice-grip shutting off his windpipe.</p><p>The sight of Anthony’s face going bloated and red, his hands clutching futilely at his throat, gave Noct an intoxicating jolt of satisfaction. Here was a bully, a brute, who thought he was better than everyone else — and how powerless he was now, little more than a slug under the heel of the Prince of Hell.</p><p>Noct tightened his grip. A sickening, cracking sound stuttered out from Anthony’s throat.</p><p>‘Noct!’</p><p>At the sound of Prompto’s voice, trembling and frightened, the fight drained out of Noct in an instant. He released his hold on Anthony’s throat, and looked around at the sea of terrified faces, their gazes all trained on him. The bullies had been the ones who’d come along and ruined the fun — so why were they looking at Noct as if he were the problem.</p><p>‘His face,’ somebody cried. ‘What’s up with his face?’</p><p>Noct clapped his hands to his cheeks, feeling across the surface of his skin. It was only once he dropped his hands that he saw the web of black lines scrawling across his hands and wrists, where his demonic power had begun to burn through his person-suit.</p><p>He shot a look at Prompto. The boy was staring back at him blankly, his eyes wide.</p><p>Noct did the only thing he knew how. He ran.</p><p>Dashing blindly through the trees, he didn’t know where he was headed. All he knew was he had to get away, <em> get away </em> before he made things so much worse.</p><p>He only stopped running when his pathetic legs gave out, his lungs burning from the exertion; he toppled to his knees and gave an unholy roar, driving his fist into the ground. He must have broken his hand earlier, when he’d suckerpunched Anthony; the pain was almost exquisite.</p><p>Chest heaving, he jabbed at the ground a few more times until the pain dragged a cry from his lips, and only then was he satisfied. Sitting up, he let his broken hand hang limp at his side. It would heal eventually, faster than a mortal’s would. For now, he welcomed the pain.</p><p>He’d almost killed Anthony. He’d lost control, and he’d almost taken someone’s life.</p><p>Worse: he’d gotten Prompto hurt, too.</p><p>And Prompto had <em> seen </em> him — actually <em> seen </em> him for what he was. That was the worst thing of all.</p><p>He was so busy worrying over what Prompto must think of him, how he must finally see Noct for the monster he truly was, when it dawned on him.</p><p>Anthony, the field hockey team — they were the least of his worries. He’d used his powers in front of mortals and hurt two in the process. Ignis was going to <em> kill </em> him.</p><p>With a sardonic laugh, he threw his head up towards the sky. Let Ignis try, he thought, scowling up at the moon through the dappled tree canopy. He couldn’t possibly make Noct feel any worse than he did right now.</p><p>He had no concept of the passing of time, of how long he knelt there in the dirt with his hand throbbing at his side. He probably would have been content to stay there all night until his guardians came to claim their sorry charge.</p><p>Behind him, a twig snapped. He didn’t have it in him to care if this was Ignis, or Gladio, or Anthony coming to get revenge.</p><p>‘Noct?’</p><p>
  <em> Prompto. </em>
</p><p>With a single word, all of Noct’s resolve crumbled, his shoulders sagging.</p><p>‘Noct.’</p><p>A hand rested on Noct’s arm, and the waning adrenaline in his system made him flinch. <em> It’s okay, </em> he had to tell himself. <em> It’s just Prompto. </em></p><p>Prompto. Who’d probably come to tell him what a monster he was. Really dig the knife in, and twist it good.</p><p>Insistently, Prompto pulled at him, tugging at his arm.</p><p>Limp-limbed, Noct let himself be pulled to his feet. Once he was standing, Prompto pulled him around until they were face-to-face. Lifted his chin so they were eye-to-eye.</p><p>Prompto’s lip was bleeding and puffy. Already his skin was purpling into a bruise. Guilt churned through Noct’s innards. That was <em> his </em> fault.</p><p>‘I know you hate me,’ Noct said, sullen. ‘Just leave me alone.’</p><p>He expected anger in Prompto’s expression; he wasn’t prepared for the worry that filled his eyes, making them glint in the moonlight.</p><p>‘Hate you?’ Prompto echoed. He shook his head incredulously, his hand clutching at Noct’s. ‘Noct, I—’</p><p>He cut himself off. His face was pale, his flushed cheeks standing out stark against them. His bottom lip quivered; Noct found himself staring at it. </p><p>And then Prompto’s mouth was on him, and nothing else mattered.</p><p>Prompto’s lips were beer-tinged and chapped, and Noct could taste the tang of blood on them; his tongue was wet and warm as it slipped into Noct’s mouth.</p><p>Heat rushed through Noct, electric — coiling into his belly and exploding through him. His putrid heart thundered like the pounding feet of a thousand hellbeasts, so hard it <em> hurt. </em>As Prompto’s lips moved against him, he followed suit, letting instinct drive him forward. Soon he was clutching at Prompto, desperately pulling him closer, as if he sought to consume him.</p><p>Prompto wasn’t moving any more. With a jolt, Noct pulled away and found his friend motionless in the darkness, eyes still closed and mouth slack with pleasure.</p><p>
  <em> Wait. What—  </em>
</p><p>‘Highness.’</p><p>Ice water flooded Noct’s veins, where they’d flowed only moments before with heated blood. He knew what came next.</p><p>Past Prompto, appearing from behind a tree, Ignis stepped into the moonlight. Gladio was at his side, his dark eyebrows pulled into a frown. </p><p>‘Noct,’ Ignis said, his tone clipped and measured in a way that he reserved for when he was <em> really </em> mad. ‘It seems you have some explaining to do.’</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>The first task was rounding everybody up; even with an incantation to lull them into a more pliant state, it had taken some time to find those who’d wandered off and bring them back to the bonfire. It was pretty creepy to see them all sitting there mindlessly, their eyes reflecting the flickering flames as they gazed unseeing into the middle-distance.</p><p>Noct couldn’t bring himself to look at Prompto. It was too jarring to see him like that, the light gone out of him.</p><p>Noct kicked his foot into the water where he sat at the pier, sending ripples through the glassy surface. At his side, Gladio shifted uncomfortably, gripping onto the beer he’d claimed for himself from the cooler.</p><p>Gladio had just stood there while Noct recounted everything, arms folded immovably across his chest. Where Ignis had burned with barely-veiled anger, Gladio had been harder to read. He’d been the one to offer to talk to Noct while Ignis rounded up the last of the partygoers and get to work on their memories.</p><p>‘You screwed up, Noct. The Council’s already on your old man’s case.’</p><p>Noct tamped down on the urge to let his rage fly, grinding his jaws together.</p><p>‘What are you gonna make the mortals think happened?’ he asked, through gritted teeth.</p><p>Gladio shrugged.</p><p>‘Shouldn’t be too much work to make ‘em think they drank too much and blacked out. Wouldn’t be the first time, eh?’</p><p>He chuckled softly. The sound died off before long.</p><p>‘I get it, Noct,’ he said, shooting Noct a look. ‘When instinct takes over, it’s hard to pull it back in. ‘Specially when somebody you care about’s in trouble.’</p><p>It was easy to forget sometimes that Gladio was older than Noct; he was still a youngling in demon terms, just a few decades old, but there would’ve been a time not too long ago when everything was still new and weird, and nobody seemed to have any answers.</p><p>At least he hadn’t had to deal with it all while living as a mortal, though.</p><p>‘We’re gonna have to wipe your friend too, y’know.’</p><p>Glumly, Noct nodded.</p><p>‘I know.’</p><p>Gladio thumbed the neck of the beer bottle in his hands, staring off into the night. It was a long while before he spoke again.</p><p>‘Could leave the kiss, if you want. Or I could take the whole night, and he’ll wake up with a helluva hangover and no idea how he got it.’</p><p>Noct chose his words carefully. It was getting harder not to let the emotions overwhelm him, to keep them from taking over.</p><p>‘If you leave the kiss, will he remember how it happened? Will he know why he did it?’</p><p>‘There’ll be gaps,’ Gladio said. ‘Probably chalk it up to the hooch. You okay with that?’</p><p>For a long while, Noct mulled it over.</p><p>If they left the kiss, and Prompto remembered none of the things that led to it, he’d probably think it was a drunken mistake. Something embarrassing, never to be mentioned again. Or he might resent Noct for letting it happen.</p><p>What was worse: for Prompto to remember the kiss, and regret it, or to make it as if it never happened?</p><p>His chest ached, cold and brittle. He hated it sometimes — how vulnerable Prompto made him feel. Compromised. Out of control.</p><p>‘Take it.’</p><p>He swallowed down the lump forming in his throat, closing off his heart until he felt nothing.</p><p>‘Make him forget all of it.’</p>
<hr/><p>𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖚𝖒𝖓, 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕱𝖎𝖋𝖙𝖍 𝖄𝖊𝖆𝖗</p><p>Noct couldn’t pinpoint the moment he realised he couldn’t be around Prompto any more.</p><p>Sometimes they were fine — hitting the arcade together, sharing sips of out of each other’s soda cups; others, it was like a crushing weight would settle itself on Noct’s chest as memories of the kiss rushed in.</p><p>The kiss that Prompto didn’t even know about. The kiss that, for all intents and purposes, had never even happened.</p><p>It had been a mistake to let Prompto in, in the first place. Noct should’ve known better.</p><p>For a week after returning to school, he dodged Prompto’s texts and avoided him in the halls; sometimes he couldn’t get away fast enough and Prompto would bounce over to him like an exuberant puppy, with no idea of what his presence was putting Noct through, and Noct would make up some flimsy excuse about having to be someplace else.</p><p>Prompto got the hint, eventually.</p><p>It took less time than Noct had expected before Prompto found new people to hang out with — new social armour to wrap around himself. It seemed he and Chan-mi’s little clique became entirely inseparable.</p><p>Noct shouldn’t have cared, one way or the other; who mortals chose to spend their time with was of no concern to him. Still, there was a part of him that wanted to be happy that Prompto had moved on. Mostly, he just <em> hurt. </em></p><p>By the fourth week of school, it was like they’d never even met. Prompto stopped bothering to smile shyly at him in the hallways, and Noct no longer felt the need to duck his head whenever they crossed paths.</p><p>It was better this way, Noct told himself. Prompto had only ever made him weak.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖚𝖒𝖓, 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕾𝖎𝖝𝖙𝖍 𝖄𝖊𝖆𝖗</p><p>School had always been pointless drudgery, but never more so than senior year. Noct was almost an adult now in mortal terms, yet he was more lost than ever in the tidal wave of classes. As his classmates fretted about colleges, extracurriculars and cover letters, Noct consoled himself with the reminder that graduation was just on the horizon — and his freedom from the mortal world along with it.</p><p>He was ready to be <em> done </em> with school. If his father had sent the missive for him to return home then and there, he would’ve done it without looking back. Just one more year, two more semesters in this hellish place, and his sentence was <em> over. </em></p><p>He just had to keep his head down, and make it through.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>Homecoming came and went; Noct’s peers partnered themselves off with one another, and nobody bothered him. He certainly didn’t lose any sleep over it, opting to spend the night at home alone with his video games, just how he liked it.</p><p>He would’ve been kidding himself if he said he’d forgotten about Prompto, but he did a good enough job at pretending that he almost believed it sometimes. Still, there were moments when he’d see Prompto standing at his locker with a friend, head thrown back in laughter, and a primal sort of pain would lance through his chest.</p><p>It didn’t help that Prompto had gotten himself onto both the events <em> and </em> yearbook committees. It was a rare day when he couldn’t be found prowling the halls with his Lokton in hand, snapping candid shots of students going about their day.</p><p>If he had photos of Noct, he didn’t say anything, and Noct didn’t ask.</p><p>A bad night’s sleep and an argument with Gladio had left Noct in a pissy mood one Wednesday morning toward the end of October. Most of his fellow students knew to leave him alone on the best of days, but today they seemed to be giving him an especially wide berth. He was glad for it as he made a path for his locker and for once, nobody stepped in his way.</p><p>Six. One. Six. He dialled the combination into his lock and popped it, shoving the door open. He was listless today, his limbs leaden as he transferred books into his bag. He almost didn’t notice the movement beside him as someone leaned against the locker next to his.</p><p>‘Y’know, you can dodge me all you want, but I’ve gotta get your yearbook picture eventually.’</p><p>Prompto. Noct tried to ignore the way his heart quickened at the sound of the familiar voice, stuffed the last of his things into his bag and slammed his locker shut.</p><p>‘Not like anybody’d notice if I’m missing,’ he said darkly.</p><p>He just caught the roll of Prompto’s eyes out of the corner of his vision. Sure, he was being petty, but he wasn’t in the mood.</p><p>‘See, you’d think that,’ Prompto said, ‘but we just got the yearbook layout and sure enough, your name’s right there, with a big ol’ blank space above it for your picture.’</p><p>Noct turned around and moved to leave. Prompto side-stepped in front of him.</p><p>Turned out Prompto was even more infuriating when they <em> weren’t </em> on speaking terms.</p><p>‘I can get it out of the way now—’ Prompto lifted his camera, showing it to Noct ‘—or you can pick a time. I’m guessing you wanna run a comb through your hair first, or…’</p><p>He was grinning. <em> A joke. </em> Noct’s stomach flopped unpleasantly.</p><p>There was a very good chance Prompto wasn’t going to let this drop. The last thing Noct needed was Prompto shadowing him all the time.</p><p>‘Fine,’ he huffed. ‘I don’t care. Whenever.’</p><p>Prompto’s triumphant whoop of delight was almost enough to make Noct forget the past year; almost enough to bring it all flooding back, as if nothing had changed between them.</p><p>Noct wouldn’t let it.</p><p>‘I’ve got a little free time after school today,’ Prompto said, whipping out his phone and tapping something into it. ‘Come by the gymnasium after sixth period, kay? I’ll be there ‘til five-thirty.’</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>Noct began to doubt the wisdom in giving in to Prompto’s demands as soon as he showed up at the gymnasium. The place was filled with what appeared to be the entirety of the events committee, Prompto’s friends among them, and there were tables everywhere covered in Hallow’s Eve decorations.</p><p>He’d assumed that Prompto would be alone, and that he’d be able to get this over and done with. Instead, he found Prompto with Chan-mi, the two of them painting a banner together. They were playing Hallow’s Eve music from one of their phones, and making stupid monster noises at each other, periodically bursting into giggles.</p><p>Gross.</p><p>Chan-mi spotted him first. Surreptitiously, she nudged Prompto with her hip, reaching over to shut off the music.</p><p>Why were Noct’s palms so clammy as he made his way across the gym? Why did his stomach <em> feel </em> like that?</p><p>He was a couple yards away when Prompto whipped around suddenly, lifting his camera to his eye; he snapped off a shot before Noct could react, and inspected the resulting image with an impressed nod.</p><p>‘That one’s just for practice,’ he said, waving Noct over. ‘Gotta figure out your best side.’</p><p>He brought Noct to the far side of the room and grabbed a metal frame, moving it a little away from the wall. He grabbed a hook hanging from the top of it and pulled, rolling down a plain white backdrop. The fabric stayed in place when he let go. He motioned for Noct to stand in front of it.</p><p>Dropping his book bag, Noct stepped in front of the screen.</p><p>‘Look right at me, but kinda… angle your shoulder towards me. Yeah, that’s right.’</p><p>Prompto snapped a couple shots. Noct wondered if he should smile, but when Prompto said nothing about it, he elected not to.</p><p>‘Kay, try the other way… Perfect.’</p><p>Noct hoped that the camera couldn’t pick up on the discomfort oozing from his pores. Not that it really mattered. He wouldn’t even be here after graduation.</p><p>‘We done yet?’ he mumbled, tugging at his uniform shirt.</p><p>Prompto’s camera went <em> click-click-click </em> a few more times, then he dropped the viewfinder from his eye and gave a thumbs-up.</p><p>Noct retrieved his backpack and moved to go, but Prompto — irritatingly — stepped into his path again. He had that too-innocent, wheedling sort of look on his face, like he was about to ask for a favour. Whatever it was, Noct could have saved him the trouble of bothering.</p><p>He opened his mouth, but Prompto put up a hand to stop him.</p><p>‘Just hear me out, all right? The Witches of Dunwich are playing a show this Friday, and I know you were kinda bummed when we missed them that time. So… yeah. Just wanted to let you know.’</p><p>Noct remembered the disappointment — Prompto had shown him the band when they were hanging out one day, and when the Witches had been playing in town a couple months later, Prompto had suggested they go along. But it had been on a school night, and Prompto’s moms hadn’t been too happy about two sixteen-year-olds heading off to a shady part of town just to see a band play.</p><p>The truth was, even though Noct <em> liked </em> the band, Prompto had been ninety percent of the reason he’d wanted to go. The thought of going without Prompto felt… well, pointless.</p><p>‘Are you going?’</p><p>The question tumbled from his lips before he could stop himself. He gave a cough and looked away casually, heaving his bag up higher onto his shoulder.</p><p>‘Y’know,’ he added. ‘With Chan-mi, or whatever.’</p><p>Prompto looked down at his sneakers, scuffing them together. Absently, he rubbed at his elbow.</p><p>‘She’s not really into ‘em. I figured I’d go, but if <em> you </em> want to, I guess…’</p><p>
  <em> You guess you could stay away? </em>
</p><p>That didn’t seem fair, somehow — Prompto liked them first, anyway, and it wasn’t like he was the one who’d wanted to stop being friends. Even if he <em> had </em> seemed to move on pretty quickly.</p><p>‘It’s okay,’ Noct said, shrugging. ‘You can go, if you were planning to. Maybe I’ll see you there, anyway.’</p><p>He hadn’t meant to say it; it had just rolled off of his tongue, like a force of habit.</p><p>‘Cool,’ Prompto said. ‘See you there. Maybe.’</p><p>Noct watched as he loped off back towards Chan-mi, picking up beside her once again. Soon Prompto had ducked his head down to pick up his work again, setting his camera aside, and the chorus of Hallow’s Eve music and childish laughter once more filled the room.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>Noct consoled himself with the fact that he hadn’t actually agreed to go to the show. The truth was, ever since Prompto had brought it up, he’d found himself mentally preparing for it.</p><p>It was a late show, which left him enough time to head home after school if he wanted to catch some Zs before it; he could probably coax Ignis into cooking something for him, too, before he headed back to Insomnia for the weekend.</p><p>He shook his head to himself. Really, it was a bad idea to go along at all. Sure, he liked the band, but did he like them enough to go see them? Especially at the risk of running into Prompto?</p><p>But that was the crux of it, wasn’t it? The only reason he was even entertaining the idea was on the off chance that he <em> did </em>bump into Prompto.</p><p>He needed to get a grip. And he needed, most of all, to make sure he was <em> nowhere </em> near the venue when that band was playing.</p><p>He’d had his mind made up come homeroom on Friday, where he sat in the back and blandly answered as his name was called — and he was pretty intent on sticking to his guns, too.</p><p>At least, he <em> had </em> been, until the text message had shown up from Prompto.</p><p>
  <em> &gt; I’m FREAKING. Meet me after school? Got nothing to wear tonight and i need some guidance D: </em>
</p><p>Noct blinked at the screen of his phone. Prompto had been playing it cool about <em> maybe </em> running into each other; it seemed like a weird about-face. Noct didn’t even know how to reply, considering that he’d just gotten around to making up his mind about not going.</p><p>His thumb hovered over the text box. Maybe he could pretend he hadn’t seen it yet. Maybe if he never bothered to reply, Prompto would get the hint. But then another message popped through.</p><p><em> &gt; That was meant for someone else… oops! </em> <em></em><br/>
<em> &gt; See you later! </em> <br/>
&gt; Maybe!!</p><p>Noct felt the corners of his mouth twitch into a smirk. He didn’t share homeroom with Prompto, but he could picture those freckled cheeks turning red with embarrassment. He was probably trying, hopelessly, to hide his face behind one of his books.</p><p>Noct knew he shouldn’t reply. Knew that deep down, he was wandering into dangerous territory just by reading Prompto’s texts instead of deleting them.</p><p>Even so, his thumbs tapped out a rapid-fire message, and he sent it off before he could regret it.</p><p>
  <em> guess i’ll get to see whatever you pick out for yourself then. “maybe”. &lt; </em>
</p><p>He put his phone away before he could do any more damage. When it buzzed in his pocket with Prompto’s response, he had to fight the itch to check it.</p><p>He was supposed to be keeping his distance from Prompto, not doing whatever… <em> this </em> was. He was <em> supposed </em> to be trying to get through this year unscathed.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>It was early, so the venue hadn’t filled out yet. The bar in front was somewhat lively, but the stage area through the double doors in back consisted of little more than a handful of stragglers, and staff setting up for the show.</p><p>Noct scanned the faces and found Prompto nowhere among them. Heading back into the bar, he stood up on tiptoes to try to look through the people gathered there. Still no Prompto.</p><p>He didn’t like that he was starting to feel nervous. This, after all, was never supposed to be about Prompto — outwardly he’d told himself he would come from the band, and if he happened to run into Prompto, then so be it. Yet now that he was here, all he could think was — <em> What if Prompto doesn’t show up? What then? </em></p><p>He picked a spot by the window, underneath the Hallow’s Eve bunting of black bats and autumn leaves. He told himself that he picked here because it was out of the way of the other patrons, and <em> not </em> so that he could keep an eye on the outside to see who was approaching the door. </p><p>Throwing his jacket down to claim a seat, he headed to the bar to order himself a drink. There was no minimum drinking age in the Underworld; you got booze from your own sources, or you strode with all the confidence of brazen youth into one of the realm’s numerous bars, and hoped that whichever demon was on duty didn’t laugh you out of the place. There was really no concept of <em> maturity </em> in a world populated by immortals and the undead.</p><p>Still, it was a novelty to be able to walk into a bar in Niflheim and order anything he pleased, now that he had his shiny ID card to prove him of-age as of his mortal eighteenth birthday.</p><p>The bartender didn’t even bother to ask for it this time, shooting a cursory look at Noct’s face with a nod, and it was almost disappointing. Much as Noct eschewed any similarities to his mortal counterparts, there were some traditions that seemed to cross all barriers.</p><p>He got himself a can of indie beer because the label looked interesting, and retreated to his table. Pouring the liquid out into his glass, he peered out of the window into the dimly-lit street outside.</p><p>He was getting in over his head again, and he knew it. The last time he’d let Prompto into his life, he’d wound up saddled with all sorts of horrible, squishy feelings that had clouded his judgement. It was easy to blame Prompto, in retrospect, for what had happened that night at the lake; if he hadn’t made Noct care so damn much about him, the fight never would’ve happened, and Noct never would have lost control.</p><p>It was all Prompto’s fault, really.</p><p>But could Prompto be blamed for just being himself?</p><p>Noct shook his head forcefully, pushing Prompto out of his thoughts. Even if that mess <em> had </em> been Prompto’s fault, <em> Noct </em> was the one who kept thinking about him. The one who now, a year later, couldn’t stop his mind drifting back to the kiss they’d shared…</p><p>Okay. This was definitely too much.</p><p>With a swig of beer — it wasn’t actually bad, laced with a fruity aftertaste — he turned his attention instead to people-watching. It was a game he’d learned from Prompto, but that wasn’t the point. He’d take anything to keep his mind wandering back to his former friend…</p><p>There was a couple by the bar: a girl with long, poker-straight raven hair, clad all in black, and another with soft curls, wearing a floaty pink dress. They looked like polar opposites, the vampire and the cherub, but Noct couldn’t doubt that they were right for each other whenever the dark-haired one slipped an arm around her girlfriend’s waist to murmur something in her ear, prompting peals of lyrical laughter from the cherub’s lips.</p><p>They were cute together. They looked happy. Watching them, Noct’s heart twinged.</p><p>Okay, this wasn’t working. Someone else, then.</p><p>The guy at the far end of the bar, tall and lanky with close-shaven hair and a beard, hunched over his drink. He had a dangerous sort of look about him, like he was waiting for somebody to accidentally knock into him and set off a fight. Noct made a mental note to steer clear.</p><p>The bartender himself was interesting to watch, too, in the moments when he wasn’t serving someone. He’d check the time on the clock on the wall every now and then, and shoot a look towards the door, like he was waiting for someone. A girlfriend? Boyfriend? Or maybe a troublesome customer who tended to show up around now?</p><p>This was starting to be fun, and it was the perfect source of distraction. When Noct ran out of people to watch, a fresh stream of patrons filtered through the door, and he whiled away the time by watching them all.</p><p>He was intent on a full-figured person with a spiky purple mohawk and an infectious laugh when somebody stepped in front of him, blocking his view. He looked up in irritation, but his mood shifted in an instant when his eyes fell on Prompto’s face, and the smile lighting it up.</p><p>His eyes roved, of their own accord, over Prompto’s outfit — a deep red knitted sweater that hung off his shoulders, revealing the thick straps of his binder. Noct remembered a time when Prompto had been scared to let anybody see that he was wearing one; his heart spasmed with an empathic sort of pleasure. The sweater skirted over the narrow shape of Prompto’s waist, and ended by the bottom of his hip. He was in skinny black jeans with stylish rips in them, and they clung to Prompto in all the right places.</p><p>Noct blinked and forced his eyes back to Prompto’s face. The outfit was a little less modest, a little more fitted than the stuff Prompto usually wore. Had he picked it out specially for tonight?</p><p>‘You look great,’ he blurted, before he could stop himself.</p><p>Prompto’s cheeks pinkened with delight. Bashfully, he reached up to twirl a strand of hair around his finger.</p><p>‘Thanks.’</p><p>For a moment Noct sat there gaping up at Prompto, with Prompto looking right back at him. With a lurch, Noct jumped to his feet and motioned to the other chair.</p><p>‘Sit. I mean, if you want to. Or whatever.’</p><p>He was being utterly, painfully awkward, and he couldn’t deny it. Worst of all, Prompto clearly knew it too — and he gave a little laugh before sliding into the free seat.</p><p>‘Kinda figured you wouldn’t show,’ Prompto said. He picked up a coaster from the tabletop and spun it between his fingers. ‘It’s good that you did. I mean. So you can see the Witches play.’</p><p>There were other things that he wasn’t saying. Noct didn’t dare fill in the blanks.</p><p>A year was a long time to spend apart, but somehow it felt like nothing at all. Like now, Noct could feel himself itching to overshare about the anime he’d been watching, or the old death metal vinyls he’d found in a thrift store. It would be so easy to rant about schoolwork, or how Ignis had been on his case, or how he was glad the weather had gotten so cold because it meant he could wrap himself up in sweaters and not die of overheating.</p><p>And these were things Prompto had always liked to hear, too, and he’d always had his own things to say — he’d ask Noct to wait for him to binge on the anime so they could watch the rest together, or maybe they could listen to those vinyls after school sometime.</p><p>But all of those things stayed sealed behind Noct’s lips. Silent, he took a sip of his drink.</p><p>‘So.’ Prompto creaked in his chair, probably swinging his legs like he always did when he had more energy than there was an outlet for. ‘Shouldn’t be too much longer before the band is on.’</p><p>Noct gave a nod. He felt like an idiot for showing up so early. He felt like an even bigger one for showing up at all.</p><p>‘They were still setting up when I checked. You want me to get you a drink?’</p><p>Across the table, Prompto perked up suddenly. Inexplicably, he delved his hand into his pocket and slapped something on the wooden surface in front of Noct.</p><p>‘Actually,’ he said, proudly, ‘I can get my own drinks now.’</p><p>Noct took a look at the plastic card in front of him. It was much like his own one, only with Prompto’s photos and details on it. He checked the date and saw that Prompto was eighteen, as of yesterday.</p><p>A guilty squirming feeling filled Noct’s stomach. That was two birthdays he’d missed since the summer party.</p><p>‘Oh. Sorry, I didn’t know it was—’</p><p>Prompto shook his head. His smile was reassuring.</p><p>‘It’s cool,’ he said. ‘S’not like I advertise it. But hey — at least I can get drinks now. And my folks aren’t on my case so much about curfew any more, which is great. Since they never really let me get over Chan-mi’s party.’</p><p>More squirming, oily and heavy. After Gladio and Ignis had finished fixing everybody’s memories, Noct had dismantled the tent to the best of his abilities and stuffed it into the back of the car, before asking Ignis to take Prompto home.</p><p>He hadn’t been there to see how that conversation had played out — what had happened when Prompto’s parents realised he’d lied about staying at Noct’s apartment, and had gone for an alcohol-laced camping trip to the woods instead. Whatever had been said, Noct doubted Prompto’s moms had been happy.</p><p>‘Oh,’ Noct said flatly. ‘Sorry about that…’</p><p>He wondered if he imagined the way Prompto’s face seemed to darken for just a moment before he gave a careless shrug of his shoulders. It was there for just a beat, and then it was gone.</p><p>‘It’s okay,’ Prompto replied, chipper. ‘I was, like, super wasted. I think they were just glad that you realised how bad I was and called Ignis to come get me.’</p><p><em> Super wasted. </em> Right. The strongest thing Prompto’d had to drink at the party had been a bright pink alcopop, and he’d spent most of the night sipping slowly from the same beer. Gladio’s memory glamour must’ve been pretty thorough.</p><p>Noct nursed his glass between his hands, feeling the cold condensation well against his skin. The least he could have done was go with Ignis and try to explain that none of it had been Prompto’s fault — that Prompto had only had two drinks, that maybe somebody had slipped something into one of them. He’d been too focused on himself at the time to even think of the repercussions; too selfish to think about anything beyond his own feelings.</p><p>‘Welp, gonna get that drink. You want anything?’</p><p>Prompto sat up from his seat, pocketing his ID. He gave Noct an encouraging look.</p><p>With a glance down at his half-full glass, Noct shook his head.</p><p>‘Nah, I’m good.’</p><p>He watched Prompto wade his way through the sea of bodies at the bar. The place was bustling now, getting harder to slip by without knocking into anybody. Noct wondered if the band was going to come on soon, if only it meant he could bypass any further awkward conversation.</p><p>Eventually, Prompto returned with a glass filled with ice, and a bottle of local cider. He poured himself a healthy serving and took a big swig as he sat himself down.</p><p>‘Mm. Strawberry!’ Prompto announced, licking beads of moisture off his lips. ‘Wanna try some?’</p><p>
  <em> Don’t look at his lips. Don’t say yes. </em>
</p><p>Noct curtly shook his head. The longer he stayed here, the more apparent it was becoming that this whole thing had been a mistake.</p><p>‘You figure out which college you wanna go to?’</p><p>Prompto’s tone was light. Conversational. Noct didn’t understand how the blond could be so easy and breezy when <em> he </em> was struggling so much.</p><p>‘I don’t think I’m gonna go,’ Noct said. ‘I think, uh, my dad’s got an internship lined up for me.’</p><p>Almost imperceptibly, Prompto’s face fell. They’d never gotten around to talking about their plans after school — junior year was when all the careers fairs came to school and everybody started plotting where they wanted to go after graduation, and Noct had spent it trying to forget Prompto existed.</p><p>Prompto wet his lips, then took a sip of his drink.</p><p>‘So that means… you’re probably moving away, huh?’</p><p>Pausing, Noct realised he hadn’t really thought about how things would look to any of the mortals around him. Come graduation — provided his dad didn’t change the terms — he’d be headed straight back to Insomnia. Leaving, without a trace.</p><p>‘Uh, yeah. I guess it does.’</p><p>This was what he’d been looking forward to ever since he’d been sent here, no more so than when he’d started high school. Every day crossed off brought him a little bit closer to returning to the Underworld, and putting this whole nightmare behind him.</p><p>He’d been waiting for that day so long, <em> aching </em> for it. Leave it to Prompto to make him hesitate.</p><p>‘That’s cool,’ Prompto blurted, with a grin so bright you’d never think there was anything wrong with it. ‘There’s an art college here that I had a really great interview with — they said my photography’s not bad for a beginner. I was planning on going into math or whatever, y’know, something I can make a career out of, but my Ma’s really stoked about seeing where photography could take me…’</p><p>It was easy to let Prompto ramble on without inserting anything into the conversation; Noct listened to Prompto’s words, hardly hearing them, and found himself drifting away along the waves of Prompto’s voice.</p><p>This — this was why he’d distanced himself from Prompto in the first place. Coming to the Upper World had never been his idea, and he’d hated almost every minute of it — until Prompto had come along. It was like Prompto had shown him all the things that were <em> good </em> about living as a mortal. Damn it if Noct was going to admit there might be a part of this place that he would actually <em> miss. </em></p><p>It wasn’t Eos itself that he’d have any regrets about leaving behind, though. Much as he might have tried to forget Prompto, to move on, he couldn’t quell the pitiful, feeble part of him that couldn’t comprehend the reality of leaving Prompto behind.</p><p>Prompto’s tinkling laughter filled the air, pulling Noct out from the waves. He looked a little embarrassed to have gone on for so long.</p><p>‘I’m rambling. Sorry.’</p><p>‘It’s okay,’ Noct said, quickly shaking his head. ‘I don’t mind listening to you talk.’</p><p>And as Prompto picked up again, following some train of thought that Noct couldn’t even begin to unravel, it turned out that he really, really didn’t mind at all.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>The band didn’t show up until almost ten; sensing the impatience of the crowd, the venue had invited up a few amateur performers to keep things going, and Noct and Prompto had wandered into the stage area as a folksy singer strumming a guitar had just begun to play.</p><p>When the Witches of Dunwich finally took the stage, the shift in the air was tangible. All the seething impatience over such a delay had made the crowd antsy, and that energy morphed into euphoria as the band they’d been waiting for finally arrived.</p><p>The impromptu performances had been mostly acoustic and slow, barely enough to meet the ferocity of the crowd; the Witches opened with a roaring tune of screeching vocals and wailing electric guitars, and it was like all the pent-up rage became manifest all at once.</p><p>The first blow came from the right as a kid in leather pants catapulted into him; he was barely recovering from it when somebody knocked into him from behind.</p><p>‘Holy shit!’ Prompto squeaked, his eyes crinkling in gleeful excitement. ‘The crowd is <em> wild </em> tonight!’</p><p>That was an understatement. Prompto took a hit next, getting thrown forward, and Noct just about managed to grab his wrist to prevent him falling face-first into the speaker rig.</p><p>Maybe standing at the front hadn’t been the wisest move.</p><p>‘Do you want to move somewhere else?’ Noct shouted.</p><p>‘What?’</p><p>‘DO YOU WANT TO MOVE?’</p><p>Between the music blaring from the speakers and the screams of the crowd, Noct could barely hear himself think, but the sound of Prompto’s laughter still somehow cut through all the noise to get to him.</p><p>Leaning over, Prompto linked their arms together and brought his lips close to Noct’s ear.</p><p>‘No way! Just follow my lead, okay?’</p><p>Bemused, Noct watched. </p><p>First, Prompto bent his knees slightly, like he was priming himself to jump. Then, out of nowhere, he launched himself to the left, bumping into the guy with glossy hair hanging all the way down his back.</p><p>Noct expected the guy to be annoyed, but instead he gave a hearty grin and bounced right back into Prompto.</p><p>‘Mosh pit!’ Prompto cheered, virtually vibrating with excitement.</p><p>It became a weird sort of game. You bounced into the people around you, and they knocked you right back, and if it felt sometimes like they were trying to cause you bodily harm… well, that was apparently the fun of it.</p><p>Noct couldn’t say he understood the custom, but he found a bizarre satisfaction in shoving his shoulders into the people around him, and feeling them knock him in return with equal force.</p><p>The mosh pit endured through the first three songs; as the fourth took a slower, more balladic rhythm, the thrashing of the crowd began to die down. Prompto turned to Noct, tugging at the sleeve of his jacket.</p><p><em> ‘Water,’ </em> he panted.</p><p>Noct couldn’t agree more.</p><p>They fought their way through the crowd, which seemed to be moving as one in the opposite direction — <em> towards </em> the stage. Noct knew they probably wouldn’t be able to get back their spot at the front, but all that mattered in that moment was hydration. He pulled off his jacket for good measure, slinging it over his shoulder. He wished he hadn’t brought it.</p><p>‘You get us a seat,’ he said. ‘I’ll get the water.’</p><p>It was almost more trouble than it was worth to get to the bar; most of the people bunched up around it weren’t even waiting to be served, instead hanging around in groups shouting to each other to be heard. If this were a bar in the Underworld, he’d waste no time in casting them aside with a wave of his hand. Unfortunately, he didn’t have that luxury.</p><p>After fighting his way to the bar, he had to scream until he was hoarse so that the bartender could hear him. Armed with two overpriced glass bottles <em> ‘Straight from the glacier lakes of Niflheim’, </em> he went off in search of Prompto.</p><p>Fortunately, his companion seemed to have fared better than he had, choosing a table in the corner away from the worst of the noise. Prompto sat fanning himself, his cheeks bright red from the heat and exertion.</p><p>‘Thank the Gods,’ he gasped, practically jumping out of his seat to grab a bottle for himself. He pressed the glass surface to his cheeks, letting the condensation cool him down; when he pulled it away, he left trails of water that trickled down his skin.</p><p>Noct popped the top on his water and guzzled some of it down. He had to admit, the glacier water <em> did </em> taste pretty great. Like he’d helped himself to an ice-cold mouthful right from the source.</p><p>Prompto flashed him an apologetic smile.</p><p>‘You mind if we sit for a little while longer? My binder’s killing me.’</p><p>Reflexively, Noct shot a look towards the straps showing on Prompto’s shoulders. There were angry red marks where his skin had puffed up in the heat, and the material had dug in. Noct could only imagine how tight it must be on Prompto’s ribs.</p><p>He shrugged.</p><p>‘Course. I could use a break anyways.’</p><p>They sat in comfortable silence — if it could be called that, with the combination of the crowd noise and the amplified music of the show. Noct took another sip of water, and followed Prompto’s lead in pressing it to his face.</p><p>Across the table, Prompto was fidgeting, peeling at the label on his water. Noct could practically <em> feel </em> him itching to say something; whatever it was, Noct’s stomach squirmed in anticipation.</p><p>‘So I know I’m, like, totally killing the buzz here. But, uh… I’ve been wanting to ask you something.’</p><p>
  <em> Oh no. </em>
</p><p>Noct wanted to open his mouth to stop the inevitable — generally ‘I’ve been wanting to ask you something’ resulted in some very uncomfortable conversations — but his tongue had glued itself to the roof of his mouth and wouldn’t seem to comply.</p><p>Prompto flashed a rueful smile. Apologetic, almost.</p><p>‘Did I… do something?’ he asked, pausing to chew his lip. ‘Like, at Chan-mi’s party?’</p><p>Noct’s eyebrows shot up. <em> That </em> was what this was about?</p><p>‘What? I don’t—’</p><p>Prompto waved a hand for Noct to let him finish.</p><p>‘I don’t remember a whole lot about what happened — I guess I fell over and got a split lip? I woke up with a hangover, but the last thing I really remember is sitting at the fire with you after we got out of the water. I thought maybe…’</p><p>His brow contorted into a frown. He looked angry, like he was frustrated with himself for not quite being able to get the words out right.</p><p>For Noct’s part, he didn’t really like where this was going, but he found himself powerless to try to stop it.</p><p>‘You just stopped talking me out of the blue,’ Prompto blurted, and heat flared across his cheeks. ‘I figured maybe I did something when I was drunk and I scared you off and…’</p><p>Noct didn’t like the way his stomach churned shamefully at Prompto’s words. He didn’t like that he’d made Prompto feel that way, and he liked the fact that he was feeling guilty about it even <em> less. </em></p><p>He wasn’t supposed to care. He was supposed to be <em> over </em> this.</p><p>And yet as he watched Prompto chew his lip anxiously, his mind drifted back to that night. To the static in the air, to Prompto’s mouth on his own. To the taste of blood on his tongue.</p><p>‘No,’ he managed to gasp out, with a terse shake of his head. ‘You didn’t do anything. You just… passed out, and I got Ignis to take you home.’</p><p>Slowly, Prompto dipped his head in understanding. His shoulders seemed to sink as if he were disappointed. Maybe he’d been hoping to get a different answer.</p><p>‘Okay,’ he said, dully. <em> ‘Okay. </em> Thanks for humouring me.’</p><p>He’d never know what really happened that night; he’d never know, and despite Noct’s reassurances, he’d probably go on thinking it had been his fault.</p><p>Noct sighed, glancing toward the double doors into the show.</p><p>‘You ready to head back in?’</p><p>‘Sure,’ Prompto replied. ‘Just gimme a sec, I wanna—’</p><p>He cut off. It took Noct a second to realise something was up. To notice how pale Prompto had gone.</p><p>The blond jumped to his feet, patting himself down like he was checking his pockets. Whatever he was looking for, he didn’t seem to be having any luck.</p><p>‘My phone. It’s gone.’</p><p>Noct winced. He knew how much of Prompto’s life was on that thing.</p><p>‘You sure? I can help you look for it—’</p><p>‘No,’ Prompto interjected. ‘It must’ve been when I was trying to find us a seat. I felt somebody bump into me, it must’ve happened then…’</p><p>‘You think someone took it?’</p><p>‘Maybe…’</p><p>Prompto seemed to have forgotten Noct was there in his panic, turning out his pockets as if he might somehow have missed an entire phone in them. </p><p>‘Shit,’ he intoned. ‘Shit, shit, shit.’</p><p>Noct stretched out a hand to catch Prompto’s.</p><p>‘Hey, man, it’s okay. We’ll ask at the bar and see if—’</p><p>Prompto’s eyes were wild with fear as he looked at Noct. Noct couldn’t understand why he was freaking out so badly — it was just a phone, easily replaced.</p><p>‘You don’t get it,’ Prompto said. His lip was trembling, like he was trying not to cry. ‘I got that phone for my birthday. My parents are gonna <em> freak.’ </em></p><p>Pursing his lips, Noct took a step back. He knew Prompto well enough to remember that his family had never exactly been flush; Noct’d had to cover their arcade trips a couple times when Prompto had come up short on cash to change to quarters.</p><p>For Noct, replacing a phone was easy. He just had to whine to Ignis, who would put in a request to the treasury in Insomnia, and through some interdimensional magic his bank account would be credited with the applicable amount. He’d had a new phone twice a year, either after breaking his previous one, or finding out a newer model had been released with even more bells and whistles.</p><p>It wasn’t so simple for Prompto.</p><p>‘All right.’ He took Prompto’s hand and tugged at it, leading him towards the bar area. ‘You think you could remember who bumped into you?’</p><p>Prompto gave a watery-eyed nod. With a sniff, his eyes scanned over the room.</p><p>After a moment, he went rigid.</p><p>‘There,’ he said, pointing toward a figure headed for the door. ‘It was him.’</p><p>The sensible thing probably would have been to inform the staff at the bar, or call the cops, but Noct wasn’t thinking straight. Some sort of protective instinct had kicked into gear and he knew the only way they were getting that phone back was if he did it himself.</p><p>Pulling Prompto’s hand, he led the way for the door, bursting out through it. The night air was a slap in the face after the heat of the venue, but he didn’t have long to soak in the cold. His target was already taking off at a quick pace.</p><p>‘Hey,’ he shouted, letting go of Prompto’s hand and taking up a jog. ‘Hey, stop!’</p><p>If the guy really <em> had </em> taken Prompto’s phone, Noct half-expected him to launch into a run. It’s what Noct would have done, if he were guilty. The guy didn’t run, but he didn’t stop, either; he kept up his brisk walk, head jerking side to side as if to check that he was getting away safely.</p><p>‘Hey!’</p><p>Noct had never been more sure that this was the culprit. Irritation turned into anger turned into full-blown rage. Who did this asshole think he was?</p><p>When the guy failed once again to stop, Noct made a subtle wave of his hand, sending him tripping over his feet. He stumbled long enough for Noct to catch up and get in front of him.</p><p>‘You,’ he snarled. ‘Give it back.’</p><p>The guy straightened up. He was tall, but scrawny, his eyes gaunt and hollow. His hair was cropped close to his head, while he had a thick beard that hung shaggy at his jaw.</p><p>Raising his hands in a mock picture of innocence, he cocked his head to the side.</p><p>‘What?’ the man said. ‘I don’t have anything.’</p><p>Noct wasn’t in the mood for games.</p><p>‘My friend’s phone. Give it back.’</p><p>Still playing the fool, the guy patted the pockets of his heavy winter jacket and of his baggy jeans. When he slipped a phone from his pocket, Noct recognised the chocobo charm dangling from it.</p><p>‘Oh, this?’ he said. ‘Nah, this is <em> mine.’ </em></p><p>Prompto had caught up behind by then; Noct wished he could will him with his eyes to tackle the asshole to the ground, but of course Prompto would never do it.</p><p>‘Take my phone, if you want,’ Noct said, reaching for his pocket. ‘I don’t give a shit. Just give that one back.’</p><p>The thief seemed to consider it for a long while. He weighed Prompto’s phone in his hand; from here, it didn’t look like it was worth that much. Noct hoped the guy would just give it back and be done with it.</p><p>‘Hm. You know, you may have a point.’</p><p>The guy gave a thoughtful nod. He stepped forward, as if to hand it over— </p><p>And tossed it onto the ground.</p><p>‘How about <em> you </em> give me <em> your </em> phone—’ somehow, a knife had materialised in his hand, and the blade glinted dangerously in the streetlamps ‘—and I’ll let you walk away.’</p><p>‘Noct—’</p><p>‘Just go, Prompto.’</p><p>His friend gaped at him helplessly. Even from that far away, Noct could see his eyes were puffy and red from crying.</p><p>Stupid, sweet, innocent Prompto getting upset over a damned <em> phone. </em></p><p>‘Go,’ Noct said, again. ‘Stay inside. I’ll deal with this jerk.’</p><p>He knew that leaving was the last thing Prompto wanted to do. But sticking around was dumb, especially when things were about to get hectic — Noct would force him to go, if he had to.</p><p>He didn’t have to, as it turned out. With a last reluctant glance at the man with the knife, Prompto backed up, and headed towards the bar.</p><p>If he had any sense at all, he wouldn’t get help.</p><p>The thief edged forward a little, taking advantage of Noct’s distraction. With a wave of his hand, Noct forced him to a halt.</p><p>‘You think you’re such a big man, don’t you?’ he hissed.</p><p>The man had realised by now that he was frozen, unable to move. His eyes darted about frantically in their sockets.</p><p>Noct should have picked up Prompto’s phone and called it quits, but he was nowhere close to being done.</p><p>‘Where I’m from, we eat people like you for lunch. You think you’re tough, stealing from somebody who wouldn’t hurt a fly? Well you’re not, asshole.’</p><p>He strode across the sidewalk, still damp from a flash shower earlier in the evening. He was close enough that the thief could have slashed at him with the knife, if he only could have moved.</p><p>‘See, I know what’s waiting for you, after all of this. Because I’ve <em> seen </em> enough of your kind to know what comes next.</p><p>‘Maybe you’re just grabbing phones now, or stealing people’s wallets. Pretty soon, you’ll be breaking into people’s houses. Stealing their savings. Smashing their shit up. And then one day, you’ll break into the wrong house while somebody’s home, and they’ll get hurt. And you won’t just be a thief any more — you’ll be a murderer.’</p><p>The rage was washing through Noct now, like the ocean in a storm. He squeezed his hand, tightening his grip on the man, and took a most luxuriant pleasure in watching him crumple, his eyes scrunching in pain.</p><p>‘You’re not tough,’ Noct taunted. ‘You’re <em> worthless.’ </em></p><p>He’d done enough damage; hopefully this asshole had learned his lesson. With a flippant wave of his hand, he set the man free, and walked a wide gait around him.</p><p>A few yards away, he heard the slimy hiss of the man’s voice.</p><p>‘You <em> freak! </em> I oughta cut you and your friend up for that!’</p><p>Noct had had worse flung at him. Even in the Underworld, where he would someday come to rule, he’d been dressed down by peers and underlings alike. Demons weren’t typically fond of tact.</p><p>He could take it, and worse — but the mention of Prompto was enough to send him over the edge.</p><p>Cheeks hot, he whipped around, his hand already raised. He could see the thief coming for him, but <em> he </em> was faster; he raked his fingers through the air like talons, and watched matching wounds gouge into the man, tearing clothing and flesh alike.</p><p>The guy gave a gasp, faltering. He clapped a hand to his front in disbelief, his mouth hanging open.</p><p>Noct still wasn’t done. He wanted to show this loser just how <em> pitiful </em> he truly was.</p><p>‘Someday, you’re gonna die,’ he sneered. Another swipe; a fresh set of bright-red wounds opened, this time across the man’s face. ‘And I’m gonna be waiting for you.’</p><p>The thief covered his face with his hands, blood pouring crimson-red through his fingers. Maybe now he knew what it felt like to be powerless.</p><p>Noct tossed his hand thoughtlessly and the man went flying, landing in the filth of the gutter.</p><p>
  <em> ‘Noct!’ </em>
</p><p>He froze. If it had occurred to him that his guardians would find out about this, he must have forgotten about it in his anger. Now, heart knocking in his chest with adrenaline — and perverse delight — the fight fled from him.</p><p>Gladio appeared in a cloud of miasma; he was in human form, but he still gave off the aura of a stampeding behemoth as he stepped through the rift into the mortal realm.</p><p>‘You are in a <em> world </em> of shit,’ Gladio snapped. His cheeks were two hot red orbs on his sallow face. ‘You have any idea how many people were watching your theatrics?’</p><p>Noct’s stomach plummeted. He’d been so intent on getting revenge that he hadn’t thought of the dozens of windows overlooking the street. It was a wonder the cops hadn’t been called yet — but then, maybe they were already on their way.</p><p>His mouth flapped open and shut like a goldfish, as he failed to find the words to excuse his actions. He knew there weren’t any that could make up for what he’d done.</p><p>Gladio’s eyes burned into him.</p><p>‘Save it for the Council. They want an audience with you. <em> Now.’ </em></p><p>‘The Council?’ Noct bleated. ‘Why isn’t Ignis—’</p><p>‘Iggy’s dealing with them now, tryin’ to talk ‘em down. From the sounds of things, it ain’t working.’ </p><p>‘I’ll— I’ll go to my dad,’ Noct stammered. ‘I’ll take whatever punishment he gives.’</p><p>A terse shake of Gladio’s head told him everything he needed to know.</p><p>‘You don’t get it, Noct. This ain’t up to the king any more. After the last time, you were already on thin ice. The Council decided he’s too soft on you.’</p><p>Dread washed through Noct, bitter as bile.</p><p>The Council had first formed as a complement to the throne, to provide an array of perspectives from all echelons of demonkind, but in recent years their power had grown. As they’d won more and more autonomy, the king had butted heads with them on everything from terraforming the Hellscape, to doling out punishment to mortals.</p><p>Had they been grabbing at power while he’d been gone? Had the constant thorn in his father’s side become a jagged blade?</p><p>Had his stupid, petty little outburst only made things worse?</p><p>‘What are they saying?’ he asked, his heart in his throat. ‘Are they going to punish my dad?’</p><p>Arms folded across his chest, Gladio’s expression remained stony.</p><p>‘Couldn’t tell you. All I know is, this ain’t somethin’ His Majesty can sweep under the rug.’</p><p>Noct tried to think of the worst the Council could do, given the excuse. Could they dethrone his father? Exile him? <em> Execute </em> him?</p><p>There had only been four Kings of Hell since the beginning of time. Only one had died of what counted as natural causes for demonkind, after a long and happy rule; Regis’s father had died in battle with rebelling factions of demons; the very first king had been banished by the very Council that now sought an audience with the wayward prince.</p><p>Noct didn’t mean for his dad to suffer a similar fate. He’d sacrifice himself, if he had to.</p><p>This was <em> his </em>mess, after all.</p><p>‘Just give me five minutes, okay?’ Noct pleaded, with an urgent look towards the door. ‘Five minutes and I’ll come with you. Promise.’</p><p>Gladio seemed to be at war with himself. Eventually, finally, he gave a permissive nod.</p><p>After reclaiming the phone from the ground, Noct made his way hastily back into the bar. He was worried that he’d have to fight his way through the crowd just to find Prompto again, but he found his companion waiting gloomily at the edge of the room.</p><p>The blond brightened considerably when his eyes landed on Noct. He didn’t wait a beat before pushing himself off from his perch against the wall.</p><p>‘Are you okay? Do you need to call the cops?’</p><p>Noct shook his head, and held up a hand to stave off any more questions. He had some stuff he had to get off his chest, and very little time to say it.</p><p>‘I can’t stay,’ he said in a rush. ‘Gladio’s taking me home, and I’m not sure when I’ll be able to come back. I don’t even know if I’ll be back at all.’</p><p>Prompto’s eyes went wide. Thankfully, he stayed silent.</p><p>Noct took a breath. He hadn’t even meant to come tonight; had told himself from the get-go that it was a mistake. What had happened outside had been proof enough of that, but if it had taught him anything, it was this: it wasn’t Prompto’s fault, any of it. It never had been.</p><p>‘You didn’t do anything, Prompto. That night at the lake — ugh, I wish I could <em> explain. </em> Just… I promise, you didn’t do anything wrong.</p><p>‘There’s so much stuff I wish I could tell you. There’s… things I’ve been keeping from you, Prompto, and it’s too late now. I… I screwed up, and it’s over.’</p><p>Prompto took a faltering step forward, laying his hand on Noct’s arm.</p><p>‘Whatever it is, Noct, you can talk to me. If you’re in trouble, we can—’</p><p>Shaking his head, Noct cut him off.</p><p>As nice as it would’ve been to believe it — as much as he <em> wanted </em> to — he knew it could never be. Even if he had the time to explain everything to Prompto, he didn’t know how to begin. And he sure as Hell doubted Prompto would be so understanding if he knew what had been kept from him for so long.</p><p>‘Just listen a sec, okay?’ Noct said.</p><p>Obediently, Prompto kept his mouth shut.</p><p>‘This past year was awful. If I could take it all back, I would. I would, Prompto.’</p><p>From outside, he could <em> feel </em> Gladio calling to him, pulling at him. Time was running out.</p><p>Noct licked his lips. Somehow, the weight of Prompto’s blue eyes on him made this all the harder, but he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t get it all out.</p><p>‘You’re the one thing that made this place bearable, Prompto. I couldn’t’ve got through it without you.’</p><p>‘Noct—’</p><p>Prompto broke off. Whatever he’d been about to say fell away, and Noct couldn’t help but wonder if a part of him understood the weight of all of this. That when Noct said he probably wasn’t coming back, he meant it. </p><p>
  <em> &lt;Noct.&gt; </em>
</p><p>
  <em> &lt;Just gimme a sec. I promise I’m almost done.&gt; </em>
</p><p>There was only one thing left to do — something Noct had wished he could do, over and over again, ever since that first time by the lake.</p><p>He lifted his hand to Prompto’s cheek. Almost as if on reflex, Prompto leaned into his touch.</p><p>The bar was poorly-lit, and it smelled of old spilled beer, and the noise of the band was a distant, unintelligible roar in the background. Somehow, though, the moment couldn’t have been more perfect.</p><p>Noct edged forward, pressing his forehead to Prompto’s. His friend’s nose bumped his; that forced a little chuckle from Prompto, and despite everything Noct smiled, too.</p><p>Their kiss in the woods had happened in a blur, but this was slower. Even as it felt as if the world was ending, Noct took his time, tilting his face to the side and touching his lips to Prompto’s. The blond melted against him, a soft sound slipping from his mouth.</p><p>He tasted like strawberry cider; like the summer. He was warm and soft and sweet like the early-morning sun.</p><p>
  <em> &lt;Noct. It’s time.&gt; </em>
</p><p>With a sigh, Noct broke away. He knew he should go now, or he never would — but he took just a second to stroke his hand through Prompto’s hair, and tried to commit that freckled face to memory. Who knew if he’d ever see it again?</p><p>He moved to turn — then, remembering himself, he stopped and shoved his hand into his pocket, emerging with Prompto’s phone.</p><p>‘Almost forgot.’ He handed it over to Prompto with a sheepish smile. ‘It got a little smashed. I’m sorry.’</p><p>Blankly, Prompto nodded. His mouth was still parted from their kiss.</p><p>‘Look after yourself, Prompto.’</p><p>Noct was glad that his voice didn’t come out as raw as it felt; he was glad when, as he turned once more to go and face his fate, Prompto didn’t reach out to stop him.</p><p>He didn’t trust himself not to stay.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Heads up in this chapter for a non-explicit love scene!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>After the oppressive, dense atmosphere of the Underworld, the rains in Gralea seemed to be Heavensent. Gutters overflowed; the few people caught out in the downpour scurried off to their destinations as if their lives depended on it. The sound of cars in the street was deafening, magnified by the rain. It felt like the city was cleansing itself. Of what, Noct didn’t know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It suited his dark mood just fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His audience with the Council had somehow been both nothing like he’d expected, and yet so much worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was sure he must have met the Council’s members at some point in his childhood, but that had been at a time when everyone bigger than him had seemed daunting and scary, some authority to be obeyed. As he’d grown up, he’d learned just how far his father’s powers extended, and he’d matured in the arrogance that no one in Insomnia — not Ignis, not Gladio, not even the oldest of demonkind — had power over him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His youthful certainty was somewhat shaken now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Worst of all, his dad had been there. Not even in the king’s seat of honour, but in the hall of witnesses, with Ignis and Gladio flanking his sides.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct hadn’t been able to bring himself to meet his father’s eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘This Council questions the validity of an heir whose emotions are so easily swayed by mere mortals. This Council believes His Majesty has shown favouritism, and allowed the Prince to stray from his path.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>That wasn’t the worst of it, of course, but it was funny how </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> part had stuck with him the most. Somehow, the implication that his father was to blame was the biggest insult of all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the end, they hadn’t banished Noct, but they hadn’t let him off, either. There were </span>
  <em>
    <span>changes ahead,</span>
  </em>
  <span> as they’d said, and they’d be working in tandem with his father to discuss his future, as well as that of Insomnia as a whole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct had a horrible, sickening feeling that he knew what they had in mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For now, his punishment consisted of being restricted to the mortal realm until his fate could be decided. He would have railed at this ordinarily, but he couldn’t quell the frisson of relief that he might not be torn away from Prompto just yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that he could bring himself to track down his friend. After such a momentous parting, he felt a little too sheepish to go after him. That, and he still didn’t know what punishment the Council planned to dish out; they might still whisk him away from the mortal realm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time moved differently across the realms — that was how Ignis could know so quickly that he’d used his powers on an unwitting human, when to Noct it had only been a few minutes. He’d spent the bulk of a day at the Citadel, while the Council read him the riot act; here in the Upper World, the night was still young.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could head back to his apartment, but just the thought of the walls of the loft was too confining. It was tempting to find a bar to drown his sorrows, but the last thing he needed was alcohol worsening his mood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was stuck on Eos for the time being, but for entirely different reasons he felt trapped. With nowhere to go, he felt smothered by the world, by his problems, by things outside his control.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt powerless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His feet pounded the streets of Gralea; the rain fell heavier still. His hair was saturated, flattened to his head, and his clothes felt like another layer of cold, heavy skin. He thought longingly of the jacket that he’d stupidly left at the bar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had he ever taken this walk before? Had he ever followed these same streets in this particular order? He couldn’t recall, but his legs brought him along the path nonetheless, until he found himself down the dead-end street where Prompto lived.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lights were out; the city might still be seething with life, but the Argentums had turned in for the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another mistake, coming here. Just one on the list of many.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kicked at a puddle in the road, sending droplets of water flying. His boots had kept his feet dry, but for the first time he noticed how cold they were. How sore they were, after walking across the city on his fool’s errand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A plaintive </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘maow!’</span>
  </em>
  <span> lended itself to the rainfall chorus. His head jerked towards the sound, and he saw the familiar calico pattern of Prompto’s cat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or at least, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>thought</span>
  </em>
  <span> it was a cat; the rain had plastered its fur to its lithe frame so that it more closely resembled something like a rodent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cat sauntered over and bunted into his leg. Wound serpentine around his calf, and looked imploringly up at him. When it opened its mouth to meow again, the image of a drowned rat only deepened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Same,’ he muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Maow!’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seemed to want something from him. He didn’t have any food, but then he figured the Argentums probably kept it well-fed. If it wanted him to dry it off, it was asking the wrong person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I don’t know what you want,’ he said. ‘Sorry.’</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Mrrrrr-ow!’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed, slapping his hands against his thighs in resignation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘C’mon, let’s get you home.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t seem like the best idea to pick up a cat without warning — he certainly wouldn’t have liked somebody several times his size doing it — so he slipped his leg free of the cat’s embrace and stepped over it, marching toward Prompto’s house. Thankfully, the feline followed along, without his having to resort to moving it himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The porch door was unlocked. Feeling a little like a cat burglar — he groaned internally at the unintentional pun — he eased it open and ushered the cat in. He didn’t try the front door. If it was locked, it didn’t do him much good, and if it wasn’t… well, he didn’t feel like frightening the Argentums half to death by making them think someone was breaking in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cat, at least, seemed content to sit on the welcome mat and begin the laborious process of grooming itself. Noct gave it a companionable pat on the head before stepping back outside. The sliding door, he left slightly ajar. He didn’t want to trap the critter in there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was bizarre to go over the day’s events as he padded across the drive toward the road. Interdimensional temporal deviation notwithstanding, it had been a strange one: that morning, he’d woken up and gone to school as usual; by night, he’d found himself at the bar. The encounter with the thief in the street felt like a distant memory. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he’d been whisked away to his home dimension, where the Council had reddened his ears for hours, and made him sit outside their chambers for what felt like a lifetime while they deliberated on his fate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now he was here, outside Prompto’s house. On the same night that they’d kissed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unconsciously, he found himself turning to look up at the house — and saw the curtains twitching at Prompto’s window. The movement was enough to give him pause, and he stumbled to a halt, his heart clattering between his lungs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The front door swept open a moment later. As the glass door glided on its tracks, the cat gave an excited, bleating foghorn of a greeting, and Prompto’s hushed voice came in response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Stop it, gremlin! You’ll wake the neighbours.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct turned and watched, giving Prompto a moment to fuss over his cat. It seemed to think it had been days since it had last felt its master’s touch, even though Noct very much doubted that. The feline wasn’t content to go until Prompto had scratched behind its ears, under its chin, and at the base of its back, in that order.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the cat had finally headed within — and the door had been safely closed behind it, in case it elected to demand any more affection — Prompto stepped into the porch. He lingered in the opening, his hip against the frame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Hi,’ he said, softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How was it possible that with a single word, Prompto could make Noct’s heart crack open? How could a mortal have such sway over </span>
  <em>
    <span>him,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the Prince of the Underworld?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct wanted more than anything to launch himself back up the drive and over to Prompto. Whether it was good sense or pride that held him back, his legs remained rooted to the spot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Hey.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, the rain tapered away, easing off; maybe there were some small mercies left in the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto pushed a hand through his hair. He’d changed into his loungewear after the show. Must’ve been in bed before Noct showed up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘You wanna come inside?’ Prompto offered, swinging a hand behind him toward the door. ‘Get dried off?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Darkly, Noct shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I should… go home.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last word felt empty and hollow on his tongue. He wasn’t sure where </span>
  <em>
    <span>home</span>
  </em>
  <span> was any more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto gnawed at his lip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I can call you a cab…’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sigh forced itself from Noct’s lips. Prompto just always had to go and make things more difficult, didn’t he? He couldn’t just be an intolerable jerk like everybody else on Eos.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Forget it,’ Noct said, with a half-hearted wave of his hand. ‘I’m just gonna walk it off.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Hold up.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Noct could question him, Prompto disappeared back into the house. He was only gone a couple minutes before he emerged at the door again, dressed this time, zipping a jacket up to his chin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Okay,’ he said brightly, locking the door behind him. ‘Let’s go!’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where, exactly, Noct didn’t know — but he set off walking, and Prompto soon fell into step beside him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct wasn’t too familiar with this side of town, usually following Prompto’s lead whenever they were out here. He’d found his way here all the way from the block where he lived, but he couldn’t have described the route back with a gun to his head. Mostly, he just picked a direction, and when Prompto didn’t stop him, he kept going.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘We’re pretty close to the arboretum,’ Prompto said, after a while. ‘It’s nice there at night. Quiet. Nobody to bother you.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He seemed like he was getting at something; Noct didn’t press him. With a permissive wave of his hand, Noct motioned for him to lead the way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The arboretum couldn’t have been more than ten minutes from Prompto’s house, toward the outer edge of the city. It was fenced in by black iron railings — from what Noct could tell, the gates were locked for the night. That didn’t seem to stop Prompto, though, and when he got to one of the gates, he easily hopped over it. As gracefully as he could, Noct did the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There seemed to be everything here from lush trees with heavy foliage, to more delicate ones with ornamental leaves. They crossed a bridge over a winding river as they walked, and whether it was natural or manmade, Noct couldn’t tell the difference.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto led him deeper within, where the lights of the city no longer seemed to permeate. The only illumination came from the moon, whenever it peeped out from behind ash-grey clouds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘So, I like to come here when I’m feeling shitty,’ Prompto said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He came to a halt; they were at another bridge, this one overlooking a small pond with the colourful shapes of fish beneath the surface. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I used to come here all the time after we stopped hanging out.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A dig at what had happened between them, although Noct suspected it wasn’t intentional. Even if it had been, it was a pretty well-deserved shot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct leaned his weight against the wooden railing and peered down into the water. The fish seemed to be happy after the rain, bobbing up to feed off of the surface. It must be a pretty simple life, living just to feed and reproduce. Then again, he’d always seen mortals as little more than animals, too. They’d proved that assumption false time and again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘What’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> good,’ Prompto continued, ‘is if you come here when nobody’s around, and you just… AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct jolted, staring aghast at his companion. There was nothing wrong with Prompto; he hadn’t been bitten by some exotic venomous creature that happened to be native to this part of the city. But still he stood there, screaming, with his face turned toward the sky. He didn’t stop until he’d run out of breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panting, Prompto turned to Noct with a grin. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes alight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Try it! I promise nobody’ll hear you.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct eyed the blond distrustfully. Prompto had never led him astray before now, but there was always time to start.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a wink, Prompto bumped his elbow into Noct’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘C’mon. It’ll make you feel better.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dubious, Noct turned towards the railing again. Prompto’s impromptu shrieking hadn’t scared off the fish, at least, and nobody had come running to investigate. Maybe it really </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto nudged him again. Insistent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sigh, and feeling like a clown, Noct closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was more of a howl than Prompto’s attempt had been, hoarse and cracked from hours spent trying to plead his case to the Council, but when the sound finally died on his lips, he had to admit it </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> give him a sense of release. It hadn’t gotten rid of any of his problems, but it had certainly broken them free of where they’d been bottled up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto was just a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little </span>
  </em>
  <span>bit smug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘See? What’d I tell you?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Exasperated, rolling his eyes, Noct checked his shoulder into Prompto’s. He did it gently, though, not enough to move him. When he pulled away, Prompto was smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Soooo…’ Prompto turned his back to the railing, leaning against it. ‘You wanna do that again?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tempting as it was, Noct felt like he’d made a fool of himself enough for one night. He shook his head, and turned around to rest beside Prompto.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘You come here a lot?’ he asked, hugging his arms around his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard the whisper of water-resistant fabric as Prompto shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Not any more, really. I just didn’t bother one week, and then I guess I kind of forgot about it. Hadn’t really thought about it in a while until you showed up at my door.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct glanced sideways at Prompto.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Yeah?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Yeah.’ Prompto gave a nod. ‘You looked like you could use it.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was an understatement, as always, not that Prompto could have begun to fathom everything that was going on in Noct’s world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A breeze whistled through the trees, sending a shiver down Noct’s neck. His wet clothes were going to be a problem, eventually.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘You wanna talk about it?’ Prompto said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘You can head back home now, if you want to. I’ll be okay.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a weary, long-suffering sigh, Prompto leaned over and looped his arm through Noct’s. Giving a tug, he motioned back the way they’d come.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Come home with me. You can dry off.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seemed the skies had a sense of humour; rain trickled down as they made their way back through the park, and by the time they were out on the streets the clouds split open, sending a great deluge down upon them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto’s jacket gave him a little protection, but without a hood, his blond hair was soaked dark within a minute. He just gave a rueful laugh and tugged again at Noct’s arm, leading him on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Race you!’ Prompto said, slipping his arm free of its hold on Noct’s. He didn’t wait for Noct; just took off at a sprint, leaving Noct behind in his dust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the emotional rollercoaster Noct had been through, he didn’t think he had it in him to follow in Prompto’s footsteps — but he spooled himself up and took off, and even though his sopping-wet clothes weighed him down, it wasn’t long before the adrenaline was pumping through his veins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d never understood the appeal of running, but sprinting after Prompto in the heart of the night, with the rain thundering down on his head, he was starting to see what Prompto liked so much about it. His heart was pumping, for once put to good use; his limbs felt loose and free, as if they moved of their own accord.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time they got back to Prompto’s house, they were half-drowned, and the water pooled underneath them on the tiled floor in the hallway. An apology tumbled out of Noct’s lips, but Prompto waved him off. He was grinning after their little night-time run. A rivulet of water ran down his nose, and he pushed it away before it could fall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘My moms are probably, like, totally okay with you being here,’ he said, tossing his waterlogged jacket onto the coat rack. ‘But let’s not make too much noise, kay? They’ll probably try to grill us if they catch us up.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto left his shoes by the bottom of the stairs, and Noct carefully placed his own beside them. As Prompto took the lead, tiptoeing up the steps, Noct did his best to follow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could still feel the thunderous beat of the rain on him as they emerged onto the landing, impressions left like kisses from an overzealous lover. The scent of petrichor lingered in his nose, and he could smell the salt of Prompto’s skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Alive.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Demons had a word for it, sure, but could they ever truly </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto seemed so alive, too, his breath not quite back to normal after their run — and now that they were supposed to be quiet it was like he couldn’t stop giggling, the nervous reflex forcing husky little peals of laughter past his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They found their way to Prompto’s room at the end of the hall and bundled in, and Prompto pressed the door shut behind them, leaning his head back against the wood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Okay,’ he said, with another reflexive giggle. ‘Let’s get dried off.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct hugged his arms around himself to stave off the cold, although it was a meager effort; he watched as Prompto darted around making the place presentable, before ducking into the bathroom attached to his room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He emerged with two thick, plush towels and tossed one of them to Noct. His cheeks dimpled as he smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was beautiful, even shivering and cold, even with his hair rain-slick and dripping down his face. So beautiful Noct had to look away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I don’t know if I’ve got anything that fits you,’ Prompto said apologetically, crossing to his closet. ‘Lemme check…’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct blotted at his face with his towel. It smelled of laundry detergent, clean and lemony. He could imagine Prompto’s sheets smelled the same, and the sudden rush of tiredness made him want to sink into the bed just to find out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Gotcha.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto emerged triumphant from the closet, a bundle of clothing in hand. He laid it down carefully at the end of the bed for Noct, then grabbed his bed clothes from the tangle of sheets on his mattress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Setting his towel down on the bed, Noct thumbed over the clothes Prompto had loaned him. It was just a faded band tee and some shorts, but it was fluffy with fabric softener and had that same lemon scent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lingered for a minute, his hand flat on the bundle, and when Prompto didn’t immediately yank off his wet clothes, Noct realised he must have been waiting for him to turn away. They’d gotten changed together how many times in the locker room at school, and Prompto picked </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be shy? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiffly, Noct turned around to face the wall. A moment later he heard the wet sound of clothes hitting the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His own shirt clung to him, stubbornly dragging on his skin as he attempted to remove it. Getting it off was a relief, at least, and he was happy to discard it on the floor. When he went to grab the towel, he spotted Prompto at the far side of the bed, already down to the vest he wore over his binder, and a pair of Hallow’s Eve-themed boxer-briefs. As soon as Noct caught sight of the flash of pale skin, he did a hurried 180, his heart thundering in his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Sorry,’ he stammered. ‘Uh, I— uh…’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘It’s fine.’ Prompto’s voice suddenly sounded timid and small. ‘Nothing you haven’t seen before, right?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A strained laugh followed. Noct was still wondering what it meant as he dried off and pulled on his shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d never been one to be shy, but maybe Prompto’s self-consciousness was rubbing off on him; as soon as he pulled his jeans off and found himself in his boxer-briefs, the clarity of the fact that he was only half-dressed, and in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Prompto’s room,</span>
  </em>
  <span> seemed to hit him all at once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That, and he didn’t have any spare underwear, and his own were soaked through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I’m just gonna…’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There Prompto was again, his voice so tiny. Like a little mouse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I’m gonna go to the bathroom,’ he said. ‘Be right back.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He seemed in a hurry, from the slap of his wet feet against the floorboards. Noct waited until he heard the click of the lock before he quickly tugged off his socks and underwear, dried off, and yanked on his shorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As an afterthought, he dug around in the pocket of his jeans and powered his phone off. The only people in the mortal realm who’d be looking for him were Gladio and Ignis, and they had easier ways of getting in touch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last time he’d been in here, they’d been getting stuff together for Chan-mi’s party by the lake. As Noct cast a glance around in the lamplight, he decided that there wasn’t much that had changed. Apart from the addition of Prompto’s camera on the desk, and strings of photos pinned to the wall above it, it was like a time capsule to a year ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He allowed his curiosity to get the better of him and crossed the room to get a closer look at the photographs. They were mostly shots of the city, or scenic views from the countryside. Scattered throughout were snaps of Prompto’s friends, and one or two selfies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bathroom lock clicked, and the door popped open. When Prompto emerged, he was clutching a small, wet bundle of clothes, which he tossed amongst the others on the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lingered there for a long while, just a few feet away. The room seemed too small with the both of them in it; Noct tried to get a read on Prompto’s face to see if he was uncomfortable, but his expression was neutral.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘You can sleep here, if you want,’ Prompto said, with a shrug. ‘There’s not much point in drying off if you’re just gonna go out in the rain again.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct hadn’t even thought about that. The most logical next step would be where he’d go after this, but his brain hadn’t caught up. He hadn’t slept since he got up for school that morning, and he’d essentially lived the better part of </span>
  <em>
    <span>two</span>
  </em>
  <span> days over the past seventeen hours in Eos-time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at Prompto again, as if he might have all the answers. Prompto had towel-dried his hair, but it still clung wetly to his neck where the collar of his shirt hung loose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct’s shoulders sagged with tiredness. He could try to summon Iggy for a ride home, but he didn’t think he could last that long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Okay. I’ll stay.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Cool,’ Prompto said. His voice lifted with relief. ‘I can go sleep on the couch, or—’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct shot him a look, and Prompto met it with a sheepish grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto’s bed was a three-quarter, big enough for the two of them; they’d shared it at Solstice, and on the handful of occasions Noct had stayed late studying. Now, the prospect of squeezing into it together seemed like too much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why did this feel so awkward? This was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Prompto.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Reliable, safe, </span>
  <em>
    <span>mortal</span>
  </em>
  <span> Prompto.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘It’s okay,’ Noct said. ‘I’ll just take the floor.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Noct—’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto’s protest died on his lips. With a sigh, he headed to his closet and stretched up to the top shelf, pulling down bales of extra bedding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the makeshift bed laid out on the floor, there wasn’t much room for the two of them to move. Noct carefully sidestepped around Prompto and clambered into the diligently-built nest on the floor. It was soft and plush and just a little bit chilly, and it took everything Noct had left in him not to burrow into the covers and fade into oblivion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Okay,’ Prompto said. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his grey sweats and looked around, like he was figuring out what to do next. ‘Okay…’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a vague wave of his hands, he moved around to the far side of the bed and climbed in, shutting off the lamp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Swallowing, Noct turned over. Forced his eyes closed. Tried to shut off his brain. He’d been so ready to </span>
  <em>
    <span>sleep</span>
  </em>
  <span> only minutes ago, and now his mind wouldn’t slow down as it permeated with thoughts of how things used to be between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he opened his eyes with a sigh, he found the room lit up with the glow of Prompto’s phone. At least it was still working after its impromptu tumble onto the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct rolled onto his other side, facing the bed. He could see pairs of Prompto’s sneakers underneath it, and the shoeboxes where he kept various odds and ends that he’d never been able to part with. Noct wondered if he still had the box filled with soda can tabs from when he’d spontaneously decided to start collecting them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Can’t sleep, huh?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto looked down at him from the mattress, his face lit up in blue by his phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Overtired,’ he said gruffly. ‘Long day.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto heaved a sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Yeah…’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wetting his lips, he put his phone’s screen to sleep and set it aside, rolling onto his right to face Noct. In the streetlight filtering through the slats of the blinds, his eyes were dark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Are we gonna talk about what happened?’</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Which part?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Noct thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The bastard who took your phone? The kiss? Or everything I said?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He wished he’d just pretended to roll over and go to sleep. He doubted he was getting out of this one so easy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flopped onto his back with a groan, scrubbing at his face. How long had it been since he’d slept, now? How long could a full-grown demon go without rest? He knew that sleep deprivation had a tendency to make mortals a little on-edge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Noct.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto laughed, and suddenly he was reaching out to slug Noct in the arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘You ghost me for a year and then you act like you think you can’t talk to me. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> that’s not true.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Internally, Noct winced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t deny that Prompto had a point, though. Even after all that time apart, going to the show together had made it feel like nothing had changed. Prompto still had all the same mannerisms as before, the same laugh, the same smile. He still made Noct feel like he’d found home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct allowed himself to entertain the thought, just for curiosity’s sake, of what would happen if he told Prompto everything. If he just laid it all out, start-to-finish, and let Prompto make of it what he would.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew what Ignis would say if he were here. Could hear the exact, incredulous tone of his voice as he berated Noct for being so foolish that he was even </span>
  <em>
    <span>considering</span>
  </em>
  <span> coming clean.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gladio would take a different approach. Probably play devil’s advocate for just a little while and weigh up the pros and cons of it all. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pro: you don’t have to keep lying. Con: you can’t hide behind that person-suit any more.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It had started out as a hypothetical, but the more he dwelled on it, the more real the possibility seemed. He’d screwed everything up back home, and who knew what the Council were planning for him — even if things magically put themselves right again, he’d be out of here at the end of the school year, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Could it hurt, really, if he told Prompto the truth? If he let the facade slip, just for once?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wearily, Noct sat up, rearranging the covers so that they were tucked around his legs. After a beat Prompto followed suit, pushing himself back until he was leaning against the headboard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I wanna show you something,’ Noct said. ‘And… I’d ask you not to freak out, but that’d be kind of pointless, so… just try not to freak out too much.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto made a face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> not ominous.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct gave an exasperated sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Just promise you won’t run screaming out into the night or something, okay?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a long while, Prompto studied him with a wary glance  — like he was sizing up his options. Noct wondered what he was thinking; what was running through his head. Out of everything he imagined that Noct was about to show him, it was doubtful that any of it came anywhere close to the truth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct found himself floundering all at once. What if he told Prompto everything, and he reacted badly? What if he… ran out into the street, and started yelling about witchcraft or something? Mortals were kind of cagey about that stuff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Noct could change his mind, Prompto reached down and grabbed his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I promise,’ he said, with a nod. ‘I will do my total best not to freak.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct sighed out his breath. The voice of reason in his head — the one that sounded a lot like Ignis — told him he was making a mistake. Somehow, though, when met with Prompto’s candid, easy trust, it was easy to tamp that voice down until he couldn’t hear it at all any more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slipping free of Prompto’s hand, Noct clambered to his knees and scooched closer, resting his elbows on the edge of the mattress. Holding out his hands, he turned them palms-up to the ceiling. There were lots of things he could do here, so </span>
  <em>
    <span>much</span>
  </em>
  <span> he could show Prompto. Whether to go all-out or keep things relatively small was the question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, he didn’t want to go setting Prompto’s bed on fire, so maybe starting off modest was the wisest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even if it was hard at times to rein his powers in, years of practice had made the harnessing of them child’s play. Maybe he wasn’t quite as skilled as his peers back in the Underworld who had the advantage of not balancing their Hellish duties with high school, but with Gladio and Ignis’s careful tutelage he’d been honing his abilities into something formidable. The task now wasn’t to unleash to full brunt of his power, but to keep it controlled. The last thing he needed was to hurt Prompto.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt the crackle of static in the air first; smelled the ozone. From Prompto’s lips there came a sharp gasp, and when Noct looked up he realised his friend wasn’t looking down at his hands, but up at his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Your eyes,’ Prompto whispered. ‘They’re—’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course — Noct had never seen himself when he used his powers, but he knew what he’d been told of it. The magenta hue that came over his eyes, glowing like vivid neon; when he </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> exerted himself, the mortal flesh would begin to fail around him, unable to contain such magnitudes of power, and veins of inky black would bubble up through the surface of his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head and nodded down towards his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Watch,’ he said, training his gaze on them again. ‘Just… watch, okay?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto was deathly silent where he sat, hunching over Noct’s hands. There was no mistaking that he was rapt, more intent on this moment than he’d ever been on anything in his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The air in the room felt heavy, full. Like the moment just before the skies had opened up, sending torrents of ice-cold rain down on the two of them. Yet as the tension built, there was no rain — only more pressure, and Noct could feel his meat-suit crawling in protest until at last— </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A spark of lightning, pure energy, jumping from the palm of one of Noct’s hands into the other. His skin smarted, two tiny rings of scorched flesh left behind. He hardly noticed it as he turned his gaze toward Prompto’s again, desperate to see his reaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was silent, his eyes still trained on Noct’s hands. It was a long while before he looked up again. Noct couldn’t quite get a read on his expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Holy shit,’ Prompto murmured. ‘What just happened?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, he wasn’t screaming, or running away — that was a start.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct pulled his hands away, rubbing them together to ward off the stinging.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘That,’ he said, and he found his voice dropping into a portentous hush, ‘was just the beginning of it. C’mere.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He clambered to his feet; when he looked at Prompto, his friend was gaping at him mindlessly. Noct offered a hand to him, and after a pause, he took it and allowed Noct to pull him up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct had to fiddle with the cord of the blinds for a minute before he could get them open; Prompto watched without helping, a little smile on his lips, and gave a soft cheer once he got the damn thing working. The window, at least, popped open with little resistance. It swung outward easily, letting the cool night air into the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rain had let up since their mad dash from the arboretum, although the clouds were still dark and angry, just begging to be coaxed into a fight. Noct was more than willing to give them what they wanted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘See over there? That big tree at the end of the street?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct moved, letting Prompto slip past him to get a better view out of the window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Sure, I see it.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Keep watching it,’ Noct said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned his attention to the tree where it sat in the middle of a small green at the end of the cul-de-sac. It was close enough that he could do some serious damage if he miscalculated; there was nobody out this late at night, though, and the green was far enough from the houses along the road.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next, he lifted his eyes skyward, training his focus on the sullen clouds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They promised rain soon, if left untouched; one last downpour to clear the tension in the air. He meant to gather up that tension first and use it himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The clouds swelled, all swarming to a focal point above the cul-de-sac. They darkened as he bent them to his will, as if in protest of his efforts — but they did his bidding nevertheless, moving as easily as leaves in a storm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The air crackled with static; the hairs on his arms stood on end. His mind raced between exhilaration and temperance, as he imagined what Ignis would have to say if he saw his charge playing with the weather; what the Council would think if they knew he was flouting their rules once again, hours after they’d castigated him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t hurting anyone, though, and the door didn’t burst open — so maybe, for now, he was okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that final thought, a brilliant bolt of lightning cut through the sky, arcing down to meet the highest branch of the tree. He made it magenta, to match the colour of his eyes. Magenta, so Prompto would know it came from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barely a beat later, the thunder followed like the boom of an explosion; the house itself seemed to rock under the force of the sound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beside him, Prompto almost flinched out of his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Holy </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit,’</span>
  </em>
  <span> Prompto blurted, jumping back from the window. ‘You did that! Did you do that? </span>
  <em>
    <span>You did that!’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His elation was short-lived; his eyes went wide as they landed on Noct, and Noct realised belated what a number that little display must have done on him. He could imagine the trails across his skin, like blackened veins — the ashen hue of his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Your skin,’ Prompto said sharply, clutching at Noct’s hands, turning them over to inspect his arms. ‘I need to— Where’s the first-aid kit? Lemme—’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Prompto.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct ducked his head, tilting it to meet his friend’s eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I’m okay, seriously. It’ll… it’ll heal.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Prompto wasn’t listening. He still grabbed at Noct’s hands, running his fingers over the web of black lines, as if his very touch might be enough to heal whatever it was that he imagined was ailing Noct. If he could have done it by sheer force of earnest will, Noct was sure in that moment that he would have.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Prompto,’ he said, firmly, slipping free of Prompto’s hold and grabbing him by the shoulders. He shook his friend gently, just enough to pull him back to the moment. ‘I’m fine. Are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you?’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Me? I think that thunder gave me a heart attack and I’m pretty sure I peed my pants, but it’s not like it got me or anythi—’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto cut off sharply, his mouth making an </span>
  <em>
    <span>o</span>
  </em>
  <span> of surprise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Oh,’ he said flatly. ‘You meant, like. How am I taking the whole, </span>
  <em>
    <span>my ex-best friend just conjured lightning out of the sky thing.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Right.’ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>ex</span>
  </em>
  <span> part twinged at Noct, but he shook it off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of all the reactions he’d been expecting, blank shock hadn’t been one of them. At this point, maybe it would’ve been a </span>
  <em>
    <span>relief</span>
  </em>
  <span> if Prompto had run off screaming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He studied Prompto’s face, watching his eyes flicker from Noct to the open window, as if he expected an encore. Noct’s meddling had set the clouds spilling forth another torrent; the pressure felt less heavy now, having finally found its release. In the distance another bolt of lightning — this one pure white — arced toward the ground, as if in sympathy to the one he’d made.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A cool breeze washed in, caressing Noct’s prickling neck, making Prompto’s still-damp hair flutter against his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Honestly?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto breathed out slowly, shaking his head almost exaggeratedly from side to side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I feel like I’m dreaming,’ he said. ‘Like this is all some crazy fever-dream, and I’m gonna wake up in my bed and realise none of it’s real.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct wet his lips. If that was what Prompto wanted, he could get Gladio to do it. Just make him forget it all, like it never even happened. He’d done it once before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto blundered past Noct in his haste to get away, to get some space; almost tripped over the nest of blankets in his haste. He wrapped his arms around himself as he went, padding towards the door into the hall, then toward the bathroom, then back again — like a rat trapped in a maze, desperate for a way out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when he turned to Noct again, at long last, there was a brightness in his eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Excitement.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I don’t wanna wake up, man,’ he blurted. ‘Please tell me I’m not dreaming.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, Noct shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘You’re not dreaming. This is real.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was enough for Prompto, it seemed. He trusted Noct enough that just his word sufficed, and he wasn’t running and Noct knew in that moment that he’d made the right call — that he could trust Prompto, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘So what are you, like…’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He practically heard the gulp as Prompto swallowed. He seemed to vibrate, full of nervous energy, rocking about on his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Are you a god or something?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct couldn’t help but snort. </span>
  <em>
    <span>A god.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He almost wished for a moment that Gladio were here; he’d get a kick out of that one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘No,’ he said, with a grin. ‘Not a god. But… well, I guess you’re not too far off.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto jumped his shoulders up with a giddy shrug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘So what, then? A… wizard? A druid? Fae?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If it were anyone else, Noct would think Prompto was making fun of him — but he was as serious as could be, desperate to piece it all together and figure it out for himself. The only clue he had was the lightning, and the magenta glow of Noct’s eyes; it wasn’t as if </span>
  <em>
    <span>a god</span>
  </em>
  <span> had been a bad guess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I wasn’t exactly lying when I told you my dad lives far away,’ Noct said slowly. ‘But… it wasn’t the whole truth.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Okay. We are </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> getting any sleep tonight.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto marched over to the bed and climbed onto it, crawling over to the lamp. When he attempted to flip it on, nothing happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guiltily, Noct folded his arms over himself. He may or may not have had something to do with that. When he flicked a glance outside, the streetlamps had gone out, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Shoot,’ Prompto muttered. ‘We’ve got some candles downstairs. Come help me?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They slipped past his parents’ bedroom on tiptoe; from within, the soft sounds of their voices could be heard. The thunderclap must have woken them up. Shooting Noct a glance, Prompto motioned toward the stairs. They’d have to continue their conversation downstairs, if they didn’t want to be overheard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto led him into the kitchen. It was cold by night, the stone tiles like ice under Noct’s bare feet. The lingering smell of cooking filled the air, something aromatic with tomato and herbs, but any trace of the earlier meal had been diligently cleaned away. There were no empty takeout boxes lying around here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With candles in hand, scavenged from the big drawer next to the sink, they left the kitchen. In the hallway, Prompto opened the door into the basement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stairs were unvarnished wood, rough and grainy underfoot. Without the light to guide them, they had to navigate their way down by touch. Finally they hit the concrete floor at the bottom, where the basement opened up into a wide space with a high ceiling and bare brick walls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was mostly just an assortment of junk — a portable barbecue, which hadn’t seen use since the summer; an electric lawnmower with grass still clinging to the orange frame. An old couch lay along the wall under the high windows; Noct remembered helping Prompto’s family move it down here when they got new furniture for the living room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took them barely any time at all to make the room cosy, lighting candles as they went. Noct waited until his last candle to wave Prompto over. Once he was sure he had his attention, he set his sights on the candle in his grasp and, with the slightest effort, conjured a flame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was worth it, just to see the smile of glee that lit up Prompto’s face, brighter than if all the candles in the room blazed together as one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘So you’re not a god,’ Prompto said, as they slumped onto the couch.  ‘And if you say I’m not hallucinating right now, I believe you. So… what </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> you?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct wasn’t sure how to begin. He’d thought that showing Prompto his powers would be the hardest thing, but his friend had taken it all in stride. If Noct had been some sort of undercover superhero like in the comic books they read, or the result of some government experiment, then maybe it would’ve been easier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he wasn’t. He was the son of the King of Hell, heir apparent to the realm of the Underworld, and almost everything he had told Prompto about himself up till now had been a fabrication.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had their friendship even been real, if it was all so tangled up in lies?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto was still patiently waiting for an answer. With a sigh, Noct curled up into the corner of the couch. It smelled musty and old.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Magic isn’t real,’ Noct said, and when Prompto gave an exaggerated pout of disappointment he couldn’t help but offer a weak smile. ‘Sorry to disappoint, but it’s true. No wizards or fairies. And I’m pretty sure the only magicians I’ve ever heard of are the ones who get paid to show up at birthdays.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked down at his knees tucked up to his chest, running his fingers over the faint marks left below the hem of his shorts. The damage he’d done to his meat-suit had already begun to heal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a long moment he tried to think how to even tackle what he was about to say, and it was only once he felt Prompto’s tentative hand on his shoulder that he found the nerve to continue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I come from a place called Insomnia. It’s… I guess it exists in the same place as Gralea, but it’s not… </span>
  <em>
    <span>here.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked up at Prompto, partly to see if he was still following, partly for encouragement. His friend’s expression was reassuring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Like…’ Prompto murmured, tilting his head. ‘Like another dimension?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘We call Eos the Upper World, and where I come from is the Underworld.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another halting glance at Prompto, just to make sure he hadn’t lost the guy. So far, so good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Anyway,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘When people die, they go to the Underworld, and their actions are weighed — the good against the bad. If they’ve been bad, they go to the really bad place. Like… the fire-and-brimstone stuff you hear about when you imagine Hell. If they’ve been good…’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘They go to Heaven?’ Prompto supplied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct winced. This was going to be the hard part.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Not… exactly. There isn’t really a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Heaven,</span>
  </em>
  <span> as mortals imagine it. No… fluffy white clouds and endless paradise. When you die, if you’ve lived a good life, you kind of just… drift.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Drift…?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could see the understanding seeping through Prompto — could see it dawning on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d seen the moment, countless times, when mortals entered the Underworld and realised what was waiting for them in the afterlife. Had seen the rage, the righteous indignation that a life spent living virtuously had earned them no cosmic rewards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Sometimes, when they come to the Underworld, they’re… looking for something,’ he said. ‘Closure, I guess. Some mortals find it, but mostly they just…’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Keep drifting.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto’s voice was a wavering whisper. He looked down at his hands, as if he could see the weight of his own mortality sitting heavily in them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct wondered what his friend had thought was waiting for him in the afterlife, and if he’d been one of those mortals who only made it through the suffering of life with the consolation that what came after would be better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘So.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto lifted his chin. His eyes were unreadable again, hidden behind the wall of candlelight reflected in them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Are you… one of the drifters? Did you come here looking for something?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If only it were that easy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I’m… a demon,’ Noct said, haltingly. ‘We’re— I dunno. I guess we’re like caretakers for the Underworld. Some of us are guides for the mortal spirits. It… takes a little adjusting to how things are in the Underworld, especially with people who died suddenly. Some of us, uh…’</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Some of us torture mortals for all eternity.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He coughed gruffly. Maybe he was better off leaving that part unsaid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried again to get a read on Prompto’s face, but it was like they were a different species — </span>
  <em>
    <span>the irony there wasn’t lost on him</span>
  </em>
  <span> — and resonating on completely different wavelengths. He wanted to crack open Prompto’s skull and crawl inside, if only to know if what he was feeling, what he was thinking, was good or bad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Prompto reached out, poking him suddenly in the cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘You don’t look like a demon.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a quizzical look on his face, he pinched Noct’s skin. It stung just a little — especially when an involuntary grin cracked Noct’s lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Shouldn’t you be all, like, scaly or something? Horns and fangs? Have you got a forked tail hiding under your shorts?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Laughing, Noct attempted to pull away, swatting at Prompto’s hand when he refused to let go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Prompto giggled in turn, relief surged through Noct.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I dunno, man,’ Prompto said, his expression comically doubtful. ‘I don’t even see any claws. How do I know you’re not lying?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like a flame being quenched, Noct’s laughter died on his lips. There </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>a way Noct could prove it to him; a way that couldn’t be played off as some cheap magic trick, smoke-and-mirrors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, it meant showing Prompto what he </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> looked like underneath the tailormade person-suit. Showing him what the truth of what lay beneath the soft, supple flesh and shiny, straight teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallowed, looking away. He knew what it would mean to show Prompto — knew that there’d be no going back. So far, Prompto had taken it pretty well, all things considered. There were just some things that couldn’t be undone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Hey.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand took hold of his: warm and gentle, small but sure. It squeezed, and wouldn’t let go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I’m not gonna lie and say this isn’t all… </span>
  <em>
    <span>a lot.</span>
  </em>
  <span> But…’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto squeezed again — and then his other hand cupped Noct’s chin, tilting it up. His eyes were bright in the candlelight, shining like the surface of a lake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I still like you,’ he said. ‘You’re still… you’re still Noct, you know? To me, at least.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In some ways it would’ve been easier if he’d gotten scared, if he’d gone running for the hills. Noct would’ve summoned Gladio, who would’ve chased Prompto down — while Ignis took the opportunity to scold Noct until his ears were burning — and wiped his memory, making all of this go away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would’ve been easier, because then Prompto wouldn’t have </span>
  <em>
    <span>known, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and he would’ve kept on thinking of Noct as just an average guy, okay-looking, kind of a slob… but </span>
  <em>
    <span>normal.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet as Noct allowed himself to fall into the glassy blue surface of Prompto’s eyes, how could he not be happy? How could he be anything other than thankful that he’d shared his biggest secret with the only mortal he cared for in the whole world, and Prompto had welcomed him with open arms?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I… I wanna show you,’ Noct said. Even as he stumbled over his words, he felt the compulsion to stuff them all back into his mouth, but he kept pressing on. ‘What I look like, I mean. Really look like.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wordlessly, Prompto nodded, slipping his hands free and letting them fall into his nap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct rose to his feet, putting some space between them — just in case this was the thing that finally pushed Prompto into </span>
  <em>
    <span>too-much</span>
  </em>
  <span> territory. Plus, he was a little bigger in demon-form. He didn’t want to wind up putting one of Prompto’s eyes out, or something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned away, as bashful as Prompto had been earlier. He could feel the heat crawling up his neck as he pulled his shirt off over his head. Still with his back to Prompto, he shimmied out of his borrowed shorts and let them fall to the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was naked now, sure, but what was a meat-suit compared to what it contained?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arms sheathed around himself like vines clinging to a tree, he stared at a rack of metal shelves across the room and counted out the moments with each breath. </span>
  <em>
    <span>One, two, three.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Waiting, like the longer he took, the easier it would get. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Four, five, six.</span>
  </em>
  <span> What if he was making a mistake?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘You don’t…’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard the wet sound of Prompto licking his lips, and the scuff of his feet across the concrete floor. Wherever he stopped, he was close enough that Noct could feel the faint coolness of Prompto’s breath skirting his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘You don’t have to, man. If you’re not ready…’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, that was all Noct needed to hear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A little scar just above the middle of his clavicle concealed the seam of his meat-suit; so small most people wouldn’t notice it at a glance, but deep enough to dig the edge of a fingernail into. He peeled it away; like a snake shedding its skin he emerged, leaving the husk of his human form behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was nothing left to shield him now — nothing left to hide the truth. He fought the desperate urge to squirrel himself away in a dark corner and forced himself instead to turn around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Prompto took him in, from the tips of his antlers down to the sharp edge of his hooves, his eyes went wide. It felt like being seen — truly </span>
  <em>
    <span>seen</span>
  </em>
  <span> — for the first time. Prompto’s eyes lit up with curiosity; his freckled hand reached out, tentative.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘It’s okay,’ Noct found himself saying. ‘Go on.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Prompto was hesitant, and Noct could see in the pink flare of heat across his cheeks that he felt as if this were something forbidden — and maybe it was, in a way, a demon showing its true form to a mortal. If there were such a thing as taboo in the realms of the Underworld, maybe this would be the worst one of all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto chewed his lip. When he finally released it to speak, his teeth left imprints in the soft pink flesh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Are you sure?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct knew then, in that moment, better than perhaps he’d known anything in all of his miserable existence — knew that even if his father himself were to beam his way up from the depths of Hell to smite them for their sins… it would be worth it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, it would’ve been too easy if the words had just come out like they were supposed to. Too convenient. So when his voice failed him, he pressed his lips together and gave a permissive nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto had to stretch up on tiptoes to reach, and even then Noct had to stoop to help him. The height difference between them was usually barely anything to write home about, but demons weren’t built like mortals, and they came in all shapes and sizes — and even if they could pour themselves into a human-meat suit and walk around quite comfortably in it, what was contained within rarely resembled anything close to the mortals they’d been charged with tormenting in the Underworld.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were big, hulking behemoths like Gladiolus, muscles and horns and raw brute strength; scaled, wingbound wyverns like Ignis, something akin to the bastard child of a bird and a dragon, straight out of only the worst of humankind’s feverish nightmares.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Noct stood in front of Prompto, watching his friend’s nose crinkle slightly in concentration, he wondered what he must look like to a mortal; wondered if Prompto must be repulsed by his gaunt frame, ribs protruding through his flesh as if they sought to burrow their way free.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he didn’t see revulsion in his friend’s eyes; didn’t hear the expected hiss of breath as Prompto’s hands first met the cool, bony surface of his antlers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And somehow — </span>
  <em>
    <span>somehow </span>
  </em>
  <span>— Prompto was so utterly, painstakingly gentle as his fingers probed over them, as though he were afraid that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> might be the one to hurt Noct. As if that were even possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Prompto got as high up the gnarled branches as he could — admittedly not very far, even as Noct stooped to assist him — his eyes met Noct’s and he flushed, and Noct was only glad that he couldn’t do the same in demon form as he realised how close they were. Close enough that Noct could have gored him with his antlers, as easily as pulled him into an embrace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Can you…’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto wet his lips and stepped back. He hugged his arms around himself, like he’d suddenly caught cold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Can you feel it?’ he managed, timidly. ‘When I touch them?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct took a moment to straighten up again, and nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘It’s not really the same as the way mortals feel things… but yeah, I can feel it.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That seemed to ignite something in Prompto, and in the blink of an eye his hesitance fell away. He took Noct’s hand — and even though they’d done this so many times with Noct in human form, feeling the warmth of Prompto’s living skin against his cold, mottled flesh, blood coursing through countless vessels beneath the surface, almost made Noct snatch his hand away in surprise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he didn’t, and he held his breath as those warm fingers roved up his wrist, his arm, up to his shoulder and over the protrusion of his clavicle. As Prompto’s touch wandered downwards, fingertips tracing over sternum, over ribs, Noct wondered desperately if his friend would feel the thunderous knocking of the festering heart within.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘And this?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto’s voice was hushed, barely a breathless whisper, and his eyes wouldn’t quite meet Noct’s any more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘How does it feel when I do this?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were no words for it — certainly none in any human dialect, living or extinct — no words for the sensations that rushed through Noct as Prompto’s fingers trailed down and down, as if they might never stop. It was a little like drowning; and yet, somehow, a little like the first, gasping breath of air after breaking through the surface.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wherever Prompto’s wandering touch might have taken him, he seemed to hesitate when he got to the ragged loincloth preserving whatever </span>
  <em>
    <span>modesty</span>
  </em>
  <span> meant to a demon. Rather than pull away entirely, though, he moved his hand to Noct’s thigh and continued his meticulous exploration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All at once he was at the bottom, kneeling on the ground, his gaze trained on what he found there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shame tore through Noct — and somehow it seemed twisted that of all the horrors of his demonic form, it should be this that brought him so much mortification. Where feet should have been, where flesh should have stretched out to cover tendon and bone, instead there were cloven hooves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t need to look at his friend’s face to imagine the disgust there, written plain and clear; couldn’t bring himself to see it with his own two eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Noct.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto’s hand was on him again, fingers curled delicately against the back of his leg. He squeezed, gently; when Noct didn’t look at him, he did it again with a little more insistence.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Vile. Disgusting. Vomit-inducing.</span>
  </em>
  <span> These were the words Noct imagined must have been roaring through Prompto’s head. Yet when he finally forced himself to look down and meet his friend’s gaze, the weight of it took his breath away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto was awestruck — reverent, almost. Eyes wide and ablaze with something that only made Noct’s putrid heart pound ever more fiercely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Thank you,’ Prompto said, his voice solemn. ‘Thank you for showing me.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes then and Noct was relieved; relieved, because he couldn’t bear the gravity of them any more, the way they’d seem to bore into his own and </span>
  <em>
    <span>see</span>
  </em>
  <span> him, more deeply than he’d ever been seen by his own kind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto’s head came to rest against Noct’s leg, his cheek soft and smooth and warm against Noct’s mottled flesh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Thank you for trusting me.’</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span></span></p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>
  <span>Noct had slept, somehow. After he’d peeled his person-suit back onto himself and they’d headed back upstairs, climbing into bed — he’d moved to take the makeshift nest on the floor, but Prompto had pouted and protested until Noct had given in and agreed to share the actual bed — he’d been so nervous he’d been sure he’d never be able to shut his mind off enough to drift away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d managed it somehow, though; slept fitfully, dreaming of the darkness of the Underworld, the impossible heat of the Hellscape that lay beyond the city of Insomnia. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sunrise woke him, the light’s rays pouring through the window where the blind had been left open in the night. Prompto stirred a little as Noct sat up, but didn’t wake. He still slept even as Noct climbed out of bed to relieve himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Last night felt like a foggy dream. He’d told Prompto everything and somehow — </span>
  <em>
    <span>somehow</span>
  </em>
  <span> — Prompto hadn’t been scared off. He’d stuck around instead, and with a childlike curiosity had asked every question that had popped into his head, and Noct had answered to the best of his ability.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto was still asleep when Noct got back in, curled up with the blankets twined through his legs. He’d pulled off his sweatpants in the night, and they lay in a heap among the nest of bedding on the floor. His leg was bare, the expanse of his thigh on show, right up to the pale blue material of the underwear he’d changed into last night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guilt knotting in his stomach, Noct glanced away. It felt wrong to look at Prompto like that, while he was sleeping. Felt wrong to chase the thread of desire that had been awoken within him a year ago, and had never quite gone away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lifted his gaze instead to Prompto’s face, where he seemed peaceful in sleep. If he’d shared any of Noct’s claustrophobic dreams in the night, he looked untroubled now. His expression was slack and calm. His hair had dried crimped after their jaunt out into the rain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto had been okay with everything last night, after Noct had explained it all. Would he feel different now, in the light of day?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Kinda creepy, watchin’ me sleep.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto’s voice was slurred and heavy with drowsiness; his eyes were only open a crack. His lips were curled into a sleepy, contented smile. It’d be so easy to crawl into bed beside him. To slip through his warm, languid limbs and while away the rest of the day in bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct shivered, in spite of himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Sorry,’ he murmured. ‘I didn’t mean to stare.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘S’okay.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like a cat, Prompto sat up and stretched one arm out, his other hand scrubbing at his eyes. His hair was even messier than it had been when he was lying down. Somehow it just made it harder for Noct not to stride across the room and climb right into bed along with him. Even as he crossed the space and perched himself at the far edge of the bed, he knew how easy it would be to pull Prompto into his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Sleep okay?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He asked out of politeness more than anything else. It had been somewhere close to four once they’d finally stopped talking and retreated to bed. Whatever sleep either of them had gotten, it hadn’t been enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto shrugged, giving another stretch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I guess. Could’ve done with about, oh… five more hours?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His shameless grin made Noct smile in spite of himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Go back to sleep, then,’ Noct said, nudging him. ‘I can make my own way home.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Prompto had that stubborn look in his eyes, and when Noct moved to climb off the bed, he reached out a hand to grab him. Prompto’s touch was all balmy and sleep-warm, his fingers soft.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘You should stay awhile. I’ve still got so much I wanna talk about.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt as if they’d covered </span>
  <em>
    <span>so much</span>
  </em>
  <span> last night, yet they’d barely scratched the surface. After the interrogation Noct had been given by the Council, it had been doubly draining.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Really?’ Noct asked, with a disbelieving smirk. ‘You need to go over Insomnian court life again?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘No, jackass.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto swatted at him gently with his free hand. His other still held onto Noct’s. Absently, he stroked his fingertips against the inside of Noct’s palm, in a lulling rhythm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I meant, like…’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto shrugged. His cheeks had gone pink, as they so often did, betraying what he was feeling. He moved his other hand to cover Noct’s, thumb tracing over his knuckles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘When you kissed me last night,’ he said, so quiet, so timid. ‘It felt like I’d been waiting my whole life for it.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something bloomed through Noct’s chest — not quite pleasure, not quite pain. It was heavy and full, and it made him want to turn tail and run.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, he managed to force himself to stay in place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d done it because he was so sure that he’d never again have the chance. Now that things were different — now that he’d been temporarily exiled to the Upper World, pending his punishment — did that change how he felt?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The throb in his chest told him at once. It didn’t change anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there were still things left unsaid. Still things he had to put right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘You trust me, right?’ he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto gave an eager nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Dude, after last night? Of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course</span>
  </em>
  <span> I trust you.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A lump knotted in Noct’s throat. Thickly, he swallowed it down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Okay. Okay. Just… gimme a sec.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With some reluctance, he slipped his hand from Prompto’s needy touch and shifted to sit with his legs tucked underneath himself. Prompto moved in turn, until they were facing each other, knees touching. The pressure helped keep Noct grounded. Helped keep him from feeling like he was spinning away into space.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lifting his hands, Noct pressed his fingertips to Prompto’s temples, and closed his own eyes. He heard his friend’s soft intake of breath. Fought off the curiosity over what Prompto was imagining, and focused instead on the facts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d never taken memories, nor had he ever given them back, but he knew enough about the mechanics of it. It wasn’t like he actually had to dig around in his friend’s head or anything; he just needed to find the glamours Gladio had woven into place that night at the lake, and lift them. Just a little at a time, like gently coaxing an ember into a flame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been over a year ago, long enough that the memories were no longer fresh. Prompto’s embarrassment had probably been enough for him to try to push what little he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> remember of the night into the farthest recesses of his mind. Especially if he thought he’d gotten so drunk that he blacked out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct called to mind his </span>
  <em>
    <span>own</span>
  </em>
  <span> recollection of that night, in a bid to encourage the memories back into Prompto’s head. He started at the beginning, with the walk to the lake. He spared no detail — from the oppressive heat, to the crawling sensation of bugs landing on his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, his thoughts synced up with Prompto’s. He saw things through Prompto’s eyes: the lush green and yellow of the woods, stretching on for miles. Felt the weight of the pack strapped onto his shoulders. Felt the affectionate little pang of exasperation when Noct complained </span>
  <em>
    <span>yet again</span>
  </em>
  <span> about how long it was taking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto’s thoughts jumped, of their own accord, to the lake. To the cold, dreadful rush of terror he’d felt when Noct had failed to emerge from the water. The sensation of pure instinct taking over. Relief, as he found Noct and pulled him to the surface, and the determination not to let him go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct drew in a breath. He shouldn’t be here, in these memories — they weren’t relevant to what had been buried away. Yet seeing it all from </span>
  <em>
    <span>Prompto’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> perspective was eye-opening. Noct had been so humiliated by his own floundering that it hadn’t even occurred to him to wonder what Prompto had been thinking in that moment, when Noct had struggled beneath the surface.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He skipped forward, finding them at the campfire. The taste of beer, cold and bitter. From Prompto, the feeling of contentment; the simple joy of sitting at Noct’s side, close enough that their shoulders touched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blood rushed to the surface of Noct’s cheeks. He’d felt the same, too — like there was no greater pleasure than to sit there together in companionable silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto’s song came next, and Noct felt him resisting slightly, pulling back. It wasn’t enough to stem the flow of feelings Prompto had felt as he let the words slowly drift from his lips, though: the acute, piercing pain of emotions long buried away. Noct’s face in his mind’s eye, lit up like a beacon in the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was all too much at once, and between Prompto’s resistance and Noct’s own embarrassment, the memories seemed to jumble up, going all wrong. Prompto was still singing, adding new verses to the song, even though in reality he’d stopped after the first one. Noct tried to grab hold of the thread of Prompto’s thoughts but it slipped free as Anthony’s voice cut through the air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto’s rush of anxiety. Of terror. The cold dread when Anthony had opened his mouth and started spouting off; fear that he’d use the past to shame him, when Prompto had worked so hard to be proud of who he was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shock, when Noct’s fist collided with Anthony face. Shock, and… elation?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>These memories were buried deep, layered under the glamour. Gladio’d had his work cut out for him suppressing what had happened, and Noct did now, too, in trying to pull them free.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bright burst of pain as Prompto took a fist to the mouth; bewilderment as his attacker was thrown away. In his vision, Noct turning toward Anthony. His face, wild and feral, as he cut off the air at Anthony’s throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct skimmed past these memories, his own shame too much to bear. He didn’t dwell on what had happened after, or how Prompto had come to find him after his flight through the trees. He only slowed down once he got to their moment alone, before Gladio and Ignis had shown up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the memory of the kiss finally slipped loose, Noct felt Prompto shift under his touch. Felt his surprise even now, as the truth of what happened that night came back to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct knew he should stop, but there was something else — some last glamour, buried deep in Prompto’s mind. Whatever it was, it didn’t feel recent. He had no business digging this far back, but as he chased Prompto’s memories back in time, he found himself powerless to stop. The curiosity was too strong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Here it was — a moment so long ago that everything felt foggy, pieced together from scraps. Prompto had gotten lost walking home from school, so he’d wound up in the wrong part of town. He’d passed an alleyway and his instincts had told him to keep walking by, but something else had drawn him in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A boy standing in the alleyway, his shoulders hunched, eyes screwed up in concentration. An empty soda can on the ground, exploding into smithereens.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘That was so cool!’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct leapt back all at once, his hands dropping from Prompto’s face. He remembered that day, too — the alleyway, the can, the fence wrenched from the wall. He’d almost forgotten about the mortal that’d been there. Had almost killed it, before his guardians intervened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After everything, that mortal child had been Prompto.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cracked open his eyes and warily looked at his friend. Prompto’s mind must’ve been racing, so many memories slotting back into place to fill the void that had been left behind. Their meeting in the alleyway had been the least of all the memories that had been covered up, but it was the one that stuck out the most to Noct. All this time in the Upper World and Prompto had been there, from the very beginning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard the dry sound of Prompto swallowing, and watched his eyes slowly open. His face was blank, and for a moment Noct worried that he’d accidentally broken him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then slowly, dreamily, Prompto touched his fingers to his lips, as if he could still feel Noct’s kiss there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Okay,’ he said, haltingly. ‘That… explains a lot.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least Prompto knew now. Knew why that night had been a big old blank in his memory — hidden away for his own good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘So.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto finally dropped his hand from his lips, although his tongue flitted over them, as if to savour the taste.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Anthony and his thugs crashed the party and started shit, and you…’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct shifted as discomfort curled within him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I took care of them,’ he said, stiffly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In front of him, Prompto gave a thoughtful nod. If he was at all traumatised by the newly-reclaimed memories, he didn’t seem to show it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced up, meek and coy. He nibbled at his lip. There was a weight to his gaze that made Noct’s stomach do a complicated set of somersaults in anticipation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘And then…’ Prompto hesitated. His tongue flitted over his bottom lip again, and Noct found himself hypnotised by the motion. ‘And then I kissed you.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There it was. The reason Noct’d felt so compelled to rush back the night before, when he’d been terrified he’d never get another shot at it. They’d kissed once before, only for it to be wiped from Prompto’s memories; Noct couldn’t live without getting one in, for real.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dipping his head, he settled his hands on his knees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto had seemed pretty into the kiss last night. He probably felt different about it now, knowing what he did now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Okay. Just… let me get this straight.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Noct looked up, he could see the cogs working in his friend’s head. Eyes narrowed, Prompto scratched at his chin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘So I kissed you, and you ghosted me for a year. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> kissed </span>
  <em>
    <span>me,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and then you ran off into the night?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct wasn’t prepared for it when Prompto shoved him. Even if he had been, he doubted it would’ve hurt any less.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘That’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> for ghosting me.’ Another shove, a little less forceful; this time, Noct was ready for it. ‘And </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> for knowing about the kiss for a whole year when I had no idea.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct rubbed at his arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Are you done now?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched Prompto consider it for a moment. It looked for a second like he was going to reach out for an encore, but thankfully he thought better of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Yeah,’ Prompto said. ‘I’m done.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct kept his hand on the spot on his arm where Prompto had shoved him, rubbing absently up and down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘So… What are you feeling?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was almost afraid to ask. It was difficult enough to decide how </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> was feeling about everything. For the past year, he’d resigned himself to the fact that he was better off distancing himself from Prompto; that as much as the kiss in the woods might have lit a fire in him, officially it had never happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To give Prompto his memories back had been the fairest thing to do, but that didn’t make it easy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘What am I feeling? Huh…’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto tapped his lips thoughtfully. He was the picture of quiet contemplation, until suddenly he turned demure, looking up at Noct through his eyelashes. He stretched his hand out to Noct’s leg, resting it gently on his knee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I’m feeling like… maybe I need an encore of that last kiss,’ he said. ‘Y’know… since the first one doesn’t really count.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct’s stomach fluttered, like a hundred butterflies had just taken flight all at once. Where Prompto was touching him, gently stroking trails into his thigh, ripples of static seemed to pulse beneath the surface of his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched Prompto lick his lips, slow and deliberate. Noct’s own mouth had suddenly gone very dry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was Prompto waiting for him to make the first move? Was he supposed to be the suave one here, sweeping Prompto off his feet? It seemed pretty hard for Noct to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> of that when his limbs had gone to jelly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then Prompto kneaded his fingers into Noct’s thigh, and the time for thinking was over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their first kiss had been heated, full of haste; the second had been born of the desperate knowledge that it would be the last. Prompto seemed to be dictating the tone of this third one, and from the lazy way he moved onto his knees, crawling closer, slow and teasing seemed to be the order of the day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pressing his hand to Noct’s chest, Prompto </span>
  <em>
    <span>pushed</span>
  </em>
  <span> — and even though it wasn’t very forceful, more of a suggestion than anything, Noct gladly lowered himself onto his back. Prompto continued his path, crawling over Noct, straddling his waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was quite a thing for Noct to be able to lie back and look up at the view of Prompto hovering over him, his hair shaggy and unkempt and ridiculously sexy all at once. When he bit his lip appealingly, Noct could already imagine the feel of that mouth on his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lips curling at the corners, Prompto lowered himself down until he was about an inch or two above Noct’s face. Close enough that Noct could feel the warmth of his breath on his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘So,’ Prompto said, cocking his head to the side. ‘What do you think? Third try’s the charm?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unable to produce words — and frankly afraid that if he opened his mouth, some embarrassing sound might come out — Noct gave an eager nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d always known Prompto to be the goofy, self-conscious one; the one who never quite seemed to operate on the same frequency as everyone else. He said what he was feeling without much of a filter, he burst into tears over commercials, and he always, </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> put other people’s feelings first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If mortals were a blight on Eos, then Prompto was the panacea; the one shining ray of light in a pitch-black night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Prompto that leaned over Noct know was one Noct hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing before — one who was all wry grins and soft, teasing touches. He bridged the last couple of inches between them, and when Noct thought he was coming in for a kiss, he diverted at the last minute and turned his attention toward Noct’s throat instead. His lips were hot, and soft, and irresistible; they roved over Noct’s neck, lavishing hungry kisses over every bare patch of skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct squirmed underneath him, acutely aware of the tension building between his thighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto sat up a little to look at Noct; with a wicked smile, he moved to the other side of Noct’s throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kissing, nipping at Noct’s skin, he slipped a hand up into Noct’s hair for leverage. When he </span>
  <em>
    <span>tugged</span>
  </em>
  <span> just slightly, just enough to tilt Noct’s head back to give him more room, the sensation was unbearably delicious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pressure between Noct’s legs was becoming something of a problem. He was sure that if he didn’t do something about it — if Prompto’s teasing went on for much longer with no release — then he’d lose his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All at once Prompto stopped, sitting up. His weight was saddled over Noct’s waist, mercifully far enough away from the problem that was steadily becoming impossible to ignore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘That,’ he said, tracing his finger down Noct’s chest, ‘didn’t count.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned down again, and Noct braced himself for more teasing. This time, though, he was sweet and unassuming, almost bashful as he lowered himself over Noct. His hand — fingers still tangled through Noct’s hair — loosened its hold and stroked gently down through the strands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto brought his face close as heat burned at Noct’s cheeks, right through the core of him, and suddenly Prompto’s lips were merging with his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, around Prompto, it seemed the sun shone too brightly. He was life and exuberance, giddy glee over the tiniest things, crushing upset over the smallest hurdles. There were times, when they’d first grown close, that Noct had felt like little more than an unwitting bystander — capable only of grabbing onto his hand, holding on for dear life as he was pulled along.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct didn’t want to be a bystander any more. He wasn’t content to sit by and let the world move him; he was hungry and needy and had wants of his own, and his body cried out in ways he’d never felt in all his years in mortal- or demon-form alike.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slipped his arms around Prompto, up beneath his shirt where it billowed loose, as if to invite his touch; allowed his fingers to wander over the topography of Prompto’s ribs, glad for the absence of the binder that would have been just another barrier between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands glided down, as if by instinct, and he cupped Prompto’s ass. When the kiss deepened, and his friend made a mewling little sound against his lips, it was all the encouragement he needed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lips moved in tandem with Prompto’s — parted gladly when Prompto’s tongue teased between them. When the tip of the blond’s tongue met his, it sent a shock of electricity through him. He chased it, eager to seek out the thrill once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto broke from his lips, and Noct took the moment to kiss across Prompto’s jaw and down his throat, hungrily mouthing at the soft, smooth flesh. He smelled like lemon and sweat and the night’s rain. He smelled uniquely </span>
  <em>
    <span>Prompto.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Noct…’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shifted; with an almost agonising rush of pleasure, Noct felt the weight of his friend come to settle in his lap, pinning his hips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A groan pried its way from Noct’s lips, low and carnal.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Noct…’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto he sat up, leaving Noct’s lips desperately wanting for the feel of his skin. His eyes were dark and sultry, his lips plump. His cheeks were a hazy pink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Do you want me?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no artifice behind his words; this was no lustful teasing meant to rile Noct into a reaction. The question was simple and pure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, Noct couldn’t understand it. How could the matter be up for discussion, when his body </span>
  <em>
    <span>screamed</span>
  </em>
  <span> an answer to the affirmative? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Prompto seemed to need that reassurance, and he knotted his fingers into the fabric of Noct’s shirt, his eyes serious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Do you want me, Noct?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cotton-mouthed, head spinning, aching for his lover’s touch, Noct wanted only to wrap his arms around Prompto and pull him close, to reclaim the pale, freckled length of his throat with a thousand kisses, until Prompto was begging for more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he took a breath to steady himself, and he brought his gaze up to match Prompto’s. Slipped a hand up to his cheek, thumb grazing over his swollen lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I want you, Prompto,’ he said. ‘I </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> you.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words were pitiful; a paltry shade of the depth of what he felt. But for Prompto it seemed to be enough — with a decisive nod he lowered himself back down again, covering Noct’s body with his own.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>𝖂𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗, 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕾𝖎𝖝𝖙𝖍 𝖄𝖊𝖆𝖗</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a saying, in the Underworld — that the only thing deeper than a bottomless pit was a mortal’s insatiable appetite. Noct had first heard it as a youngling, when he and Ignis had been running an errand on the streets of Insomnia. He’d wondered at it for years to come, curious about these strange, greedy creatures with stomachs so large they were never sated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After that first time with Prompto, when they’d come together again and again as the hazy glow of the sunrise had given way to the bright light of noon, he thought he finally understood what that saying had meant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They might have whiled away the whole day like that, if a knock hadn’t interrupted them. Noct had barely had time to flee into the bathroom before the door popped open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The months grew cooler, and they indulged in warming each other up in new and thrilling ways. Whether hidden away in the school restroom, or in Prompto’s room, or at Noct’s apartment — where they were at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>somewhat</span>
  </em>
  <span> less likely to be intruded upon — the prospect of keeping their hands off each other was an impossibly tall order.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Noct had ever felt anything close to happiness, </span>
  <em>
    <span>this,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought, was the real deal. Each morning he woke up invigorated, eager to start his day — and as often as not he’d forego breakfast just to get himself out the door faster, lest he delay himself from Prompto’s arms any longer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solstice arrived with a flurry of silver-and-blue decorations and the scent of pine, and the question of whether Noct would be spending it with the Argentums this year was a no-brainer. If Nasrin and Bella were aware of what the two hormonal eighteen-year-olds were up to under their roof, they made no show of knowing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes the days went too fast; at others, when he and Prompto lay together in each other’s arms, with nobody to answer to and no place to be, it was as if time had come to a standstill. In those moments, when it was just him and Prompto, just the steady beat of his mortal lover’s heart by his ear, he knew what it meant to be content.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct surveyed the cupboards of his kitchenette with a huff. They were pretty much bare, which was an unusual occurrence on any given day at the apartment. Ignis always managed to keep them stocked up, somehow balancing his Underworld duties with more menial tasks like ensuring his young charge didn’t starve to death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slipping his hand into the pocket of his sweats, Noct toyed with the idea of calling Ignis up to complain about his plight. He knew the demon had had a lot on his plate lately, though, spending more and more nights in Insomnia at a time. Whenever Noct asked what had him so stressed, Ignis always shook his head and muttered something about </span>
  <em>
    <span>the Council</span>
  </em>
  <span> before abruptly changing the subject.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At eighteen, Noct was probably of the age where a mortal would have to start learning to fend for themselves in the big bad world. He’d never expected to have that worry, but with Ignis increasingly absent — and the Council yet to arrive at a decision about his punishment — maybe it was time that he start trying to do as the mortals did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew that Ignis usually kept an ongoing shopping list, adding to it as he went. Noct found the magnetic notepad where Ignis had left it on the fridge, but other than </span>
  <em>
    <span>washing detergent,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the list was empty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct grabbed his keys and pulled on his coat and scarf. He didn’t think grocery shopping could be too difficult — he’d figure it out as he went along.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Getting</span>
  </em>
  <span> there was the first problem. With no Ignis to give him a ride, and no real clue where the grocery store </span>
  <em>
    <span>was,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he had to rely on his wits as he navigated the streets. The map app on his phone showed him a few options nearby, but they were mostly organic produce marts and convenience stores. The nearest place was… okay. Pretty close to where Prompto lived, actually.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was borderline reflex that had him lifting his phone to his ear, Prompto’s number already dialled in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I’m sorry, who is this?’ Prompto answered, his voice lilting with suspicion. ‘You seem to have stolen my boyfriend’s phone, because the Noct I know doesn’t wake up before eight.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct rolled his eyes, even as it gave him a little thrill to hear Prompto say the word ‘boyfriend’. They’d been about as official as you could get since that night in October, but the whole thing was still a novelty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Yeah? Well at least I know that’s really </span>
  <em>
    <span>you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> because your terrible sense of humour is intact.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Says you!’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the sort of silly exchange that made Noct wish he had Prompto here, </span>
  <em>
    <span>now.</span>
  </em>
  <span> They lived too far apart, in Noct’s opinion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘You down for a little trip?’ he asked, heading for the subway station.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto’s excitement practically beamed down the phone towards him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘For real? Where are you taking me? </span>
  <em>
    <span>What should I wear?’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct snorted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Don’t get too excited. Ignis never stocked up my place, and since that big grocery store is near you, I figured…’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Figured you’d enlist your favourite mortal to guide you painlessly through the process?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t far from the truth. If there was </span>
  <em>
    <span>anybody</span>
  </em>
  <span> out there whom he could trust to help him, it was Prompto.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That, and he liked using the excuse to spend some time together while they still had a little while left of winter break. Not that he really </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed</span>
  </em>
  <span> an excuse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Something like that,’ he said with a smirk. ‘So, what’s the verdict? You wanna help a hapless demon-prince out?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto paused for a long, long while, and Noct might have worried if he hadn’t known him better. Sometimes, Prompto just liked making him sweat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘My moms wanted to grab some stuff from the store anyways. If you wanna come here and wait for a while, they should be able to give us a ride out and back. Unless y’know, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to carry your groceries all the way back across town.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Nope,’ Noct blurted. ‘Not even a little. See you in fifteen.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘See you then!’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto’s folks had never been into Noct’s home — and a part of him was reluctant to change that fact, but they’d been insistent on helping lug his share of the groceries into the elevator, and even when he’d insisted he could take it from there, they’d filed into the lift along with him, immune to his protests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All Prompto could seem to do was encourage them along the way, electing to pretend that he couldn’t see Noct shooting him desperate looks from feet away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Oooh, this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice,’</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bella said as Noct let her in. ‘Original windows?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was a question Noct didn’t have the answer to. He might have lived there, but he didn’t know the first thing about the place — that was Iggy’s territory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Bella.’ Nasrin gave an exasperated laugh. ‘You’ll have to excuse her, Noct. We think she was an architect in a past life.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Don’t let her see the fireplace, man,’ Prompto said, lugging a handful of shopping bags on either side of him. ‘There’ll be no getting her back.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For all Noct’s ambivalence about having his boyfriend’s parents into his home, he had to admit it was almost nice to play at something so domestic. It felt, for a moment, as if they were just a normal bunch of mortals; as if Noct had grown up here in Gralea, and never known another world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Do you want us to put these anywhere in par—’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nasrin cut off abruptly; Noct tensed in anticipation of the admonishment over the dirty dishes stacked high in the sink, but when he guiltily looked towards Prompto’s mother she was frozen, her expression blank.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bella, a few feet away, was facing towards the fireplace now that her attention had been brought to it — she too was locked in place, as if someone had captured her in a photograph.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Prompto?’ Noct said warily. ‘Are you seeing this?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when he turned to Prompto, the blond seemed to be caught in stasis too, his face scrunched up mid-grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The back of Noct’s neck prickled, like somebody was walking over his grave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dumped his groceries on the floor, rushing towards Prompto — but before he could get there a ripple went through the room and his nose recoiled at the scent of ozone. A rift had rent itself through the air, about halfway between him and Prompto: a swirling vortex of purple and black, rippling and shimmering in the sunlight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He expected Ignis or Gladio — maybe even his dad, whom he hadn’t seen in person since the ill-fated day at the Citadel — but the portal’s surface remained unblemished as whoever had conjured it failed to step through.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Noctis, son of Regis, son of Mors.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice was calamitous, like the keening of a thousand tortured souls. If the mortals had been conscious to hear it, their heads would have been turned to little more than gore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A demon’s true voice; not one he recognised. Then this must be— </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘The Council has reached its verdict. Do you accept Our summons?’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct’s innards did a lively, unpleasant sort of dance. His fate had finally been decided, today of all days. He’d waited so long for it to arrive, and now that it was here he wanted to shrink away into a ball under his covers and cram his hands over his ears until it went away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Helplessly, he looked towards Prompto. The blond’s face was untroubled, unchanging. He had no idea any of this was happening. Noct wished desperately that he could reach out and wake him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Well?’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The force of the voice nearly blew Noct backward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With one last frantic look toward Prompto, he turned his gaze on the portal and steeled himself. Whatever fate awaited him, he would have to meet it with a head held high. There was no delaying the inevitable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Yes,’ he said, pouring all the dignity of his bloodline into his voice. ‘I’m here. I… I accept the summons.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No reply came in that booming, ineffable voice. Before him, the vortex flickered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were waiting for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With one step, then another, he approached the portal. Thoughts of fleeing entered his head, but left just as quickly. What’s done was done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drawing in a breath, he marched toward the portal, and stepped through it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It brought him not to the foot of the Citadel, where he might have had a moment to gather his thoughts — but to the Council chambers themselves. Disoriented by the journey, he stumbled on uncertain feet onto the marble flooring and found himself staring up at the terrible faces of the Council of Insomnia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>These were beings that might be as old as time: great, towering entities whose shapes were almost too much for a youngling’s mind to perceive. They had lived through the reign of four kings, and would likely endure to see a great many more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last time Noct had seen them, he’d been resigned to his fate. He’d wrapped himself up in Prompto’s kiss like armour, resolving to see whatever awaited him through. Now that he’d had a taste at a life with Prompto — an actual, normal life, without the trappings of his crown — he only wished he’d argued more readily in his own favour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shot a look around the chambers. The hall of witnesses was filled with a gaggle of faceless mortals and demons. Ignis, Gladio and his father were nowhere in sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Noctis.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know which of the Council members the voice came from, or if it differed from the one that had summoned him. The Council seemed to operate as a hivemind, continuing each other’s thoughts or pausing to confer amongst themselves in the same breath. They so little resembled the demons Noct had grown up with that he couldn’t have been sure they weren’t actually a single being with many faces.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘On the matter of endangering living mortals on countless occasions, this Council finds you in woeful negligence. This Council deems the king’s decision to allow you to live amongst mortal kind to be utterly ill-conceived. Yet this Council cannot fault the king for inadvertently bringing certain grave details to light.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘The first — that you are poorly suited to sit the throne.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘The second — that a demon whose blood is sullied by that of a mortal may never have the strength of character needed to rule over demonkind.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct stared blankly up at the Council on their pulpit. Their words tangled together, almost unintelligible to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Blood sullied by that of a mortal?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I don’t—’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice cut off, not by his own doing. All he could do was stand and listen.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘This Council has reached its verdict. On the matter of the prince’s fate, We are unanimous.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He held his breath, awaiting the blow. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Noctis, son of Regis, son of Mors. You shall be stripped of your titles as Crown Prince of the Underworld. Your powers shall be revoked. All rights to inheritance shall be forfeit. Henceforth, you shall be banished to the Upper World, where it is only fitting that a half-blood may live out the rest of his days.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His jaw dropped, his mouth hanging open, but even if he’d been given leave to speak, he would never have had the chance — in an instant he was thrown back through the portal, where it deposited him unceremoniously upon the floor of his apartment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without so much as a </span>
  <em>
    <span>goodbye,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the vortex compacted in on itself, vanishing with a flash of light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Council had released whatever hold they’d had on Prompto and his parents; Bella was the first to spot Noct where he sat in an ungraceful heap on the wooden floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Noct?’ She put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently. ‘Are you all right?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto had realised something was wrong by then — he made as if to rush over and help, but Noct stopped him with a shake of his head. If telepathy between a demon and a mortal were remotely possible, Noct channeled all of his energy into using his eyes to try to convey what was going on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercifully, Prompto got the hint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘He’s okay,’ he announced, and from the pitch of his voice it was hard to believe he suspected anything to the contrary. ‘Probably low blood sugar. You haven’t eaten yet, right?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct didn’t have to play at being disoriented. Stupefied, he shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Ma. Mom. He’s okay, I promise. You two go home — seriously, I’ve got this. No, you don’t need to cook anything, just give him some space!’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took a few minutes of careful shepherding before Prompto could cajole his parents into leaving. He called a few pleasantries out into the hallway after them, shut the door, engaged the lock, and strode over to Noct’s side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled Noct to his feet without any trouble at all. It was hard to believe he was so strong, sometimes, but then Noct felt like he couldn’t have weighed much at all. He felt like a husk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘What’s up?’ Prompto asked, matter-of-fact. ‘Something demonic? Should I be worried?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct turned his head side to a side in an approximation of a coherent gesture. He felt like he was outside of himself, piloting his body. He could already feel the hollow inside himself where his powers had been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gently, Prompto steered him over to the couch and lowered him into the corner of it. For a while he vanished off into another part of the room — a minute or two later he returned with a steaming cup of milky, sugary coffee, which he pressed into Noct’s hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘What’s going on?’ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto folded himself into the seat beside Noct, laying a tentative hand on his leg. The weight of it felt wrong, almost bruisingly heavy. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Everything</span>
  </em>
  <span> felt all wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘The— the Council,’ he managed to fumble out. ‘They brought me back to Insomnia.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beside him, Prompto’s face was a blur of rosy skin and blond hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘And?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct blinked. It felt unnatural — like he had to tell each eye what to do. Come to think of it, his whole body felt as if things that had once come naturally to him were now beyond his comprehension. He was afraid that if he didn’t focus consciously on his breathing, it might just stop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand went reflexively to the notch at his throat, to the seam of his meat-suit. It was gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘They stripped me of my crown,’ he said, in a voice that seemed to belong to someone else. ‘They took away my powers. I can’t… I can’t go back there again. I’m not allowed there any more.’</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘What?’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto’s fingertips gouged into his leg. It should have grounded him, but it only made him feel all the more as if he were floating away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, foggily, like he was drifting underwater, Noct shook his head. He tried to pull himself back to the moment, using Prompto as his anchor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his gaze locked on Prompto’s, those blue eyes the only beacon as he found himself lost at sea, he tried to straighten his thoughts out, and piece it all together. His powers were gone — that much was obvious. He suspected that if he tried to summon the Armiger, that would be lost to him, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was something else, though. Something that rang through to the very heart of him, an insistent throb. Something that he was terrified to put into words, as if speaking it aloud might somehow will it into being.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignoring it wouldn’t change anything, though. The Council had already given their decree.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I…’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached out for Prompto’s hands, grabbing onto them as if they were the only thing that tethered him to this world. His boyfriend’s eyes were wide with fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I think… I think I’m a mortal.’</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>𝕾𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌, 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕾𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖍 𝖄𝖊𝖆𝖗</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was like going from full-colour to seeing the world only in black and white; like growing up soaring through the skies, only to have your wings clipped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For years, Noct had detested mortals, </span>
  <em>
    <span>loathed</span>
  </em>
  <span> them with all his being, and now he was one of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was this the humility his old man had wanted for him? The compassion? Or was it just poetic irony that he’d spent his whole life viewing mortals as something beneath them, only to be consigned to living out his days amongst them?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto, as much as he might try to be sympathetic, would never really understand it. He didn’t know what it was like to have a part of him torn from the very fabric of his being, forever lost to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the frost began to thaw over Gralea and new life blossomed from the earth, the warmth barely seemed to touch Noct. He spent his days locked away in his apartment, cocooned on his couch in blankets that hadn’t been washed in weeks. His one consolation was that Ignis had somehow managed to keep sending him his weekly allowance, although he didn’t know how much longer he could count on it before the payments dried up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he’d just stop eating when that happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t been to school since the new semester had started up, and after the initial flood of letters addressed to Ignis — Noct had dumped them straight in the trash without opening them — the correspondence had finally started to dry up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was freeing, in a way, not to owe anything to anyone. He’d only kept up his schoolwork to satisfy his end of the deal with his father. Now that he wouldn’t be returning to Insomnia, it seemed pointless to keep it up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Immersed in the world of the video game he was playing, the padded leather cushions of his headphones blocked out any and all external noise, it wasn’t too much of a trouble to forget who he was for a little while. He wasn’t Noct any more; he was the vampiric seductress Alaya, and he was on a mission to avenge the murder of his human lover.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Abruptly, the headphones were yanked from his ears. With a barely-veiled snarl he turned toward whoever had interrupted him and found himself looking at Prompto where he stood at the back of the sofa, the headphones in one hand while the other sat on his hip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘It’s three in the afternoon. Have you even slept since I left?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sullenly, Noct turned back to his TV. He regretted ever allowing Prompto to get a spare key cut for himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Noct.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The TV went blank. It took everything Noct had not to hurl his controller at the screen and maintain some semblance of self-restraint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With very precise movements, he hit the pause button on his controller and set it aside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘There,’ he said petulantly. ‘Happy now?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard Prompto’s weary sigh, and felt the couch dip as the blond climbed over the back and settled himself cross-legged beside him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I’d be happy if you’d tell me what you’re going through. You know I’m not going anywhere, right?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clenching his jaw, Noct turned his glance to the blank screen of the TV. He could see the mass of blankets that was his own reflection, and Prompto’s shape beside it. It was easier to look at the mirror image than at Prompto himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Let’s go see a movie,’ Prompto said, bright as ever. ‘Some fresh air and stale popcorn’ll help.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct doubted that very much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where there was a will with Prompto, though, there was always a way — he was an unstoppable force whenever he set his mind to something, and Noct could do little more than be pulled along in his wake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow Prompto got him into the shower, climbing in along with him. The feel of Prompto’s body against his, wet and warm, was enough to coax Noct into something close to a state of consciousness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The contact cut through the murk that had settled over Noct’s brain; Prompto’s wandering touch sent electrical impulses zapping through him, as if reminding his body it was alive. Soon, Noct was not only awakened from his stupor — he was alive and alert and </span>
  <em>
    <span>hungry,</span>
  </em>
  <span> hungry for Prompto and actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>hungry</span>
  </em>
  <span> in a way he hadn’t been in a long time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sated himself on Prompto first; and then, when the water had run cold and the two of them were on legs so wobbly they couldn’t stand any more, they tumbled out of the shower and tugged on fresh clothes, and Prompto announced that he was making breakfast for them both.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was almost four, but Prompto grabbed bacon and eggs from the bag of groceries he’d brought along, and he cooked the bacon to a crisp until the apartment was rich with the sizzling smell, and he fried the eggs in the grease. It was the first hot meal Noct had had in weeks that hadn’t come out of a cardboard box; he devoured it all with second helpings, and licked the grease gratefully from his fingertips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The food had barely settled when he pulled Prompto into the bedroom and nudged him over to the bed, setting upon his throat with ravenous kisses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘No more,’ Prompto pleaded, after the third — or was it the fourth? — encore. ‘I’m not gonna be able to walk for a month.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His skin was a vivid pink all over, glistening with a sheen of sweat. Noct trailed his fingers over the hills and valleys of his side, coaxing a shiver out of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘You sure?’ Noct teased. ‘You can just lie there if you— Hey!’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave an indignant cry as Prompto swatted at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto pushed him onto his back and clambered on top of him with all the grace of a seal on dry land. He took Noct’s hands, pinning them both above his head in an ungiving hold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I was serious about seeing a movie, you know. You’ve missed all the good stuff this year.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The reminder of Noct’s self-imposed hermitage threatened to drag him back into his foul mood, but Prompto chased it off with a kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘And that’s okay,’ Prompto added. ‘You needed time. But I’m officially calling this the acceptance part of your grief. There’s a whole world outside this apartment, and I want you to let me show you.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were times, when the weight of everything Noct had lost had almost been enough to crush him. In those darkest moments, he never would have made it through if not for Prompto — and he’d spent sleepless nights wondering when it would all be too much for Prompto and he’d move on to greener pastures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Months down the line, and Prompto was still there; still clutching his hand just as tightly as at the beginning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct wet his lips, averting his eyes from his lover’s gaze. He still couldn’t shake the feeling that Prompto would be better off with someone else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Babe.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto sat up to straddle Noct, hands flat on his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘If you’re not ready, I get it. Just… please </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span> about it.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drawing in a breath, Noct closed his eyes. He liked the weight of Prompto on him, in the most worldly of ways. It kept his thoughts from straying off into dangerous territory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘No,’ he murmured, cracking open his eyes to look at Prompto at last. ‘You’re right. I need to try.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had felt as though they should pick something momentous to mark the occasion of Noct’s first official outing as a mortal, but when the offerings had been a historical romance set against the backdrop of an old manor, a romcom about a foreign exchange student falling in love, and some vapid action movie that Noct didn’t remember the premise to, there hadn’t been much choice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With such slim pickings, they’d opted for the action movie — if only because it would be loud and fast-paced enough to serve as a distraction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They waited in line, arm-in-arm outside the theatre. With the spring warming up the world, the snows had long since melted, but there was still a chill in the air. It had left a rosy pink across Prompto’s cheeks, and at the tip of his nose. He looked snug in his burgundy scarf, tucking his chin into it to keep cosy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘It’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>busy</span>
  </em>
  <span> today,’ Prompto whined. ‘Maybe we should’ve gotten here earlier…’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘You worry too much. There’s still time.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even Noct had to admit, though, that they seemed to be making very slow progress. The bored college-aged clerk behind the glass window seemed in no rush where she sat jawing on a mouthful of gum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct slipped his phone out of his pocket. The previews would have started by now — if they didn’t get through their line in the next ten minutes, they’d barely make the start of the movie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kept his thoughts to himself. Prompto had a tendency to get on-edge about things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘You wanna get—’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct broke off as pain lanced through his head, white-hot, </span>
  <em>
    <span>blinding.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He slapped a hand to his temple but it did little to rid himself of the sensation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Noct, are you—’</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;HiGhnEss.&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignis’s voice, garbled and sharp as if distorted over a radio and layered with interference. Fresh pain stabbed at his brain, and he would’ve buckled to his knees if Prompto hadn’t been holding onto his arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;yoU muST....URN tO InSomNIa…………ouNCil have………..&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Iggy, I can’t—’</span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>&lt;............e rEGAlia to opeN….pOrtAL&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His head spun. The agony was overwhelming, nauseating — try as he might, he couldn’t fight through it to focus on Ignis’s words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He braced himself against Prompto and closed his eyes, tuning everything out around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;Ignis. What’s going on?&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;.....ruSt aNyONe….iND aRAnea. SHe……..elP YOu.&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The pressure lifted and the blinding, excruciating pain lifted all at once — but with it, Ignis’s voice had faded into the void. He didn’t know if the demon had even caught his own response, or if it had only been a one-way signal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His head throbbed. It had felt like having someone digging around in his brain matter, all way blastic static into his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Noct?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto was clutching onto his arm, pale with worry. Thankfully, he seemed to be the only one around who had noticed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holding onto Prompto for support, Noct directed him away from the line to a quieter part of the sidewalk, away from everyone else. He was still trying to make sense of Ignis’s words, still piecing it all together while his head incessantly pulsed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘It was Ignis,’ he said, as Prompto helped him lean back against a wall. ‘It hurt like a bitch. Demons and mortals aren’t supposed to talk to each other like that.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gently, reassuringly, Prompto rubbed his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘What’d he say?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most of it had been garbled static. He’d picked out a few key words, though: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Insomnia, Council, Regalia, Portal, Aranea.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It was obvious that Ignis meant for him to come back, somehow, and Aranea — Ignis’s wife would help him when he got there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mention of the Council worried him. Noct doubted they’d summoned him, or they would have done him the courtesy of sending a portal. If Ignis expected him to come back, it didn’t seem to be an officially-sanctioned endeavour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One thing was certain. Even with the distorted connection, the urgency had been plain in Ignis’s voice. Noct had no time to waste.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I need to go back to home,’ he said. ‘To Insomnia.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto blinked back at him. After a moment, he gave a resolute nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Okay. How do we do that?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the situation, Noct almost coughed out a laugh. He appreciated Prompto for jumping to the rescue, but his enthusiasm maybe wasn’t the best-placed. Whatever was afoot, a mortal barely hitting five-foot-nine-inches wasn’t going to be much help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened his mouth to protest, but Prompto wouldn’t let him get that far.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Don’t even try to tell me I’m not going,’ Prompto said, cocking his head in a way that said he saw right through Noct. ‘Something’s wrong, right? You’re mortal now — you’re not invincible any more. If you’re heading to Hell, then you need backup.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bitterly, Noct realised that Prompto had a point. For all that he might scoff at the thought of a very mortal Prompto holding his own against the demons of the Underworld, </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> wasn’t in a much better boat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And… truth be told, it might be good to have Prompto along for support. Maybe some of that Argentum-brand positivity might rub off eventually.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Fine. But the first sign of trouble, you’re heading straight back out. Got it?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto slipped his hand casually behind his back, using the other one to brush through his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Got it,’ he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct had a nagging feeling that behind Prompto’s back, his fingers were crossed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were rifts between the realms at various places of great interdimensional energy — namely locations where a great many deaths had sent mortals spilling into the afterlife at such an unnatural rate. With no battlefields in Gralea (that Noct knew of), there had been only one option left. He might not have even thought of it if Ignis hadn’t been the one to mention it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For all intents and purposes, the Regalia was just a normal car in the style popular in the early half of the previous century. It guzzled gasoline just like its mortal counterparts, with an engine and mechanical innards. The radio still worked, albeit sporadically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t so much what the Regalia </span>
  <em>
    <span>was,</span>
  </em>
  <span> as what it had been built to do. Specifically, </span>
  <em>
    <span>who</span>
  </em>
  <span> it had been built to do it </span>
  <em>
    <span>for.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>‘It’s… a car.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto sounded doubtful. If </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the point that things got too unbelievable for him, he’d picked a terrible moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘It’s not just a car.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct strode over to the vehicle and slipped his keys from his pocket. It didn’t take him long to find the right one — it had an ornate </span>
  <em>
    <span>R</span>
  </em>
  <span> on the head of it, whether for </span>
  <em>
    <span>Regis</span>
  </em>
  <span> or </span>
  <em>
    <span>Regalia,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Noct didn’t know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been his father’s pride and joy, once upon a time; he’d roamed Eos in his shining steed of black chrome, getting into all manner of scrapes. Apparently he hadn’t used in decades, and had gifted it to Noct, so that he might get better use out of it.y.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘It’s the Regalia,’ he said, slotting the key into the lock. ‘And it’s our ticket to Insomnia.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Opening the door, he slid into the driver’s seat. It felt as if the leather molded itself into shape around him, but maybe he was imagining things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto’s boots clopped across the concrete as he rushed to the passenger side. Noct had to reach over to manually disengage the lock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘So you’ve had a car this whole time, and you didn’t bother to use it?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Never learned how to drive.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto was already in his seat when the weight of Noct’s words finally hit him. He gave Noct a wide-eyed look; Noct, in no mood for distractions, flicked his hand to shut the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Uhhhh, buddy?’ Prompto said, meekly fastening his safety belt. ‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Nope.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning the key in the ignition, Noct felt the engine roar to life, reverberating through the seat beneath him. That was a good start, at least. He just had to navigate the car into an open space and hope for the best.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignis had made it look simple enough when he’d done this countless times. Just put it into the right gear, check the mirrors, and put your foot on the gas pedal. Only something stalled and churned discordantly in the inner workings, and he immediately withdrew his hand from the gear stick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto looked at him uncertainly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Maybe it’s the clutch?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘The </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>‘The pedal on the left,’ Prompto said, throwing his hands up. ‘I don’t know. My moms drive automatic.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct tried again; the car suddenly lurched backwards, and he felt a rush of something that might have been exhilaration. It also might have been abject terror.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, he managed to back the car up enough to get out of the parking spot — and with Prompto guiding the wheel, they turned it into the lane without hitting anything. All that was left was to do what the Regalia did best.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Please work,’ Noct intoned, hands fumbling for the switch behind the steering wheel. His fingers brushed against the cool metal and he flipped it, heart stalling in anticipation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Up ahead, about halfway between the ground and the roof, a flash of purple arced through the air. A tear wrent itself open, growing bigger and bigger as if it might never stop, as if it might swallow the apartment building and them along with it — but then it finally stabilised, a swirling vortex just big enough for the Regalia to fit through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t resist shooting a a look at Prompto, who’d gone very still in the passenger seat. His mouth hung open, his eyes like saucers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Is that… If we go through that, will we…’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noct gave a nod and turned his eyes back to the road. Revving the engine — maybe this whole driving thing wasn’t so bad after all — he sets his sights on the portal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Insomnia, baby — here we come.’</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading! You can catch up with Noct and Prompto on their adventure to the Underworld, in <i>An Ode to Humanity Book II</i>, coming in 2021 ^__^</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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